Renaissance
by skyprincess
Summary: A mission brings two old friends back together. Throughout heartbreak, sabotage, and gossiping students can these two pilots find solace in each others company. Warning- Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

Renaissance

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Warnings: language, hints of shounen ai

Disclaimers: don't own

don't ask

don't tell

don't sue

Chapter 1:

AC 197

A cool wind blew across the open campus of Ridgemont High School. Leaves danced in the breeze, skipping along the sidewalk. The private school's cold brick building loomed over the trees, benched and walkways. A silent figure strolled amongst the cliques of chattering students, smiling to himself. The spring breeze ruffled his bangs and his thick russet braid flowed behind him as he walked. [_These kids are self-absorbed, spoiled brats._] He glanced at a few more of his fellow students. [_I can't believe I was stationed here for my mission. There aren't even any cute girls._] He shook his head quickly, shoved his hands deep into the pockets of the black pants of his school uniform, and continued walking. "Ridiculous," he muttered to himself. 

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Quatre sat in his private jet, reluctant to rejoin the human race. "Everything is so fucked up right now!" he screamed into the empty aisle. Anyone who knew the gentle Arabian would've been shocked at his casual use of profanity. "Trowa disappeared months ago and the time alone has made me remember how utterly dissatisfied I am with myself." He stood up from his seat and walked to the cockpit. "How long until we arrive in Virginia?" the little blonde inquire of the pilot. 

"Not long. . . Maybe 10 minutes or so.?

"Thanks," Quatre called out heading back to his seat. He leaned his head against the cold plexiglass window, as he stared down at the clouds. It looked like the plane was sailing across white creampuffs. 

When he was first given this assignment, his immediate instinct was to refuse it. His depression almost interfered with his responsibilities as a gundam pilot. But deep in his heart, he knew that teh mission brought hope to rise above the pain; a clean slate, a fresh start. He could finally be the Quatre deep inside. " Now it's time for a little makeover," he told the empty sky.

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Duo perched on the ledge of the roof of the school. "I've been here for two months," he said to himself as he watched a group of freshmen play basketball, "Never have I felt so alone with so many people around." He jumped from the roof to a nearby tree, then to the ground. [_Man, I'd better see action soon, or I might get rusty_.] 

He headed out to the gardens in his usual posture. Gaggles of girls giggled and whispered as he walked by, "He's soooooo cute!" " And so mysterious!" "I wonder if he has a girlfriend?"

The American sat down on a bench under a crepe myrtle tree and looked out at the gardens. Spring was just beginning and new growth sprouted all around the Victorian marble fountain in the middle of the garden. This was Duo's favorite spot to get away from the noise and the teeny bopper bullshit. [I wonder what the other pilots are up to right now. It's been awhile since I had a good criticism from Wufei, stoicism from Trowa, or a death glare from Heero. And it's been even longer since I had a good talk with Quatre. Sure everybody else tolerated me, but he actually listened to me. That all changed when he and Trowa got together. Don't get me wrong. I'm happy for the kid. . . I just miss him. I wonder how they're doing?] He suddenly heard some shrill girl scream something incoherent about N'SYNC and shuddered. "I need to hurry up and find out how this school is connected to Neo-Oz, so I can get the hell outta here!"

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The blonde Arabian walked down the stairs to meet his friend Melissa (Sissa for short) for dinner. She beamed when she saw him approaching, "Hey Quat! On time as usual."

"Let's not waste any time then. . . I'm starving."

Quatre and Sissa sat across from each other at a booth in a small corner cafe. Quatre nibbled on his tuna sandwich as Sissa related her recent problems with history class. Quatre listened intently, all the while thinking. [_I'm so glad Sissa and I are friends. Trowa never used to talk this freely with me. In fact, I haven't had a conversation like this since. . . well, since I last spoke with Duo_.] The blonde took care of the bill and the two hopped on the city bus and headed back to school. As Quatre and Sissa strolled up the walkway, Quatre sighed to himself. [_I'm enjoying myself so much, but I can't forget my mission_.] Sissa looked curiously at his furrowed brow. "Are you alright? You look worried."

"Oh. . . I'm fine. . ." he quickly replied with a smile. They continued walking, and Quatre continued to try not to look distracted by his thoughts. He soon said goodbye to Sissa and headed towards the dorms. 

***********************************************************************************

Duo left the gardens as the sun began to sink. The horizon was painted a warm pink that bleed into starry indigo. As he approached the buildings he was stopped dead in his tracks. Before him was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. She stood about 5'2" with a delicate frame. Shiny maryjanes adorned her tiny feet and white knee socks crept up her slender legs. Her red plaid skirt swayed around her hips as she walked. She had taken her black sweater off and tied it around her slight waist. Her white oxford shirt was partially unbuttoned exposing the soft porcelain skin of her stomach. Her short blonde hair rivaled the golden sun and a small red bow pulled back several of the flaxen strands. Her bangs swept across her forehead and partially covered her eyes, giving her a uniquely shy appearance. Duo looked at her gentle facial features and realized she wasn't wearing any makeup; she didn't need any. The piercing blue of her eyes shined beneath her thick black lashes and her cheeks were almost as pink as her glossy bee-stung lips. 

He stood with his mouth agape, a dry lump in his throat, and his heart beating a mile a minute. The braided boy bombarded himself with questions. [_Why haven't I seen her before? Where is she from? when did she arrive? Is she single?_] Unfortunately, he was so taken aback by her breath-taking appearance, that he couldn't move. He simply stood and watched her saunter by. He was then struck with the sudden need to sit down and hide the "problem" that had arisen in her presence. 

The braided wonder hurried up the back stairwell to his room on the third floor. With a quick turn of a key he was in the dorm. Tommy, his roommate, had left the lights on, as usual. [_He's probably out with a bunch of people, mostly girls, busying himself with being the center of attention._] Duo thought, throwing his jacket on his bed. [_I can relate. . . I used to be just like that, When did it change? When did I change?_] He walked to his mini-fridge, pulled out a coke, and walked across the room to his desk. The CPU beeped as he presses the power button, and he slumped into the rolling chair with a frown. [_I got lonely._] His thoughts drifted back to the girl that he'd seen before. [_I didn't know that there were hot chicks in Virginia. Hmm. . . She's not my usually type, but there's something special about her. . . a familiar quality._] The computer screen flashed in front of his face and the speakers rang out, "You've got mail," in that oh-so-annoying voice, but Duo was lost in thought. [_Maybe she's the one who'll fill that empty spot inside of me._]


	2. Chapter 2

Renaissance

By skyprinces

Disclaimer: Don't own much, especially not gundam wing, so don't sue me.

Warnings: shonen ai, language

Chapter 2:

Quatre unlocked the three locks to his penthouse suite on the top floor of the dormitory, and walked inside the dark room. He rhythmically reached to the right, flipped up three switches, turned back, and locked the three locks starting at the bottom on the nob, then the dead bolt, and the chain lock. One could say he likes his privacy. 

He walked down the corridor into his living room, which was decorated plushly in Victorian furnishings with predominately purple and gold accents. Beyond the sofa, loveseat, and large fireplace stood a cherry wood china cabinet catty-corner to a large velvet chair and ottoman. The breakfront was filled with pictures of Quatre and Trowa and memorabilia of the time that the two has spent together. The Arab spent many a depressed evening sitting in that chair, gazing wistfully at the cabinet's contents, and drowning himself in nostalgia. 

He sighed and walked to his large bay window, where his music stand and violin waited. He sat down on the cushiony bench and looked at his violin, "You've been my only constant friend all these years." The blonde picked up the instrument to play, but the sunset caught his eye. He gazed out at the watercolor sky and his eyes fell on the gardens in the distance. This window gave him a perfect view of the west side of campus. He looked at the beautiful marble fountain and matching benches and remembered the brunette boy that he often saw sitting there. [_He always seems so sad._] Empathy filled the young pilot's thoughts. 

Sighing in the general direction of his sheet music, he dismissed the written notes, "I can't concentrate right now." He placed the violin back in its case and pushed himself to his feet. He walked over to his mini-bar and poured himself a glass of Martini and Rossi Austi Spumanti. "So much for nonalcoholic champagne," he snorted, collapsing into the familiar burgundy velvet chair. He kicked off his shoes and their thick soles landed with a thud on the ornate Iranian rug. Propping his feet on the ottoman, the blonde slowly sipped the bubbly beverage. His thoughts slowly slipped down that familiarly depressing pathway. [_Why Trowa?_] And, against his better judgment, Quatre let tears freely fill his eyes.

**********************************************************************

A loud bang snapped a certain braided pilot from his thoughts. He spun the chair around to find Tommy walking towards the fridge. "Jesus Tommy! You scared the shit outta me!" he berated his roommate.

"Well I'm not the one staring at the computer like a zombie. You should come hang out with us. The girls are always asking about you. How **do** you do it? You don't talk to hardly anyone, yet the girls still love you!"

"My natural charm I guess," Duo joked, knowing the statement was partially true. The lavender-eyed boy never had trouble getting a date, but second dates . . . therein lay the problem. It's not like they aren't nice girls, it's just that none of them seem right. [_Nobody just clicks. There are no bells, or fireworks or yummy tingly warm fuzzies. Probably why I'm still a virgin._] He sighed audibly and then looked to his roommate with hope, "Hey Tommy, do you know anything about a girl with short blonde hair and blue-green eyes?"

"Well, there are plenty of blue-eyed blondes in the world, but if you're talking about who I think you are, take a number. Her name's Quatrina. Nobody knows much about her, except maybe Sissa . . . but anyway all the guys would absolutely love to get even one date with her. She's like untouchable man."

"Maybe I will go out with you guys next time," Duo offered as he stripped down to his red silk boxers.

"That's the spirit!" Tommy encouraged. He then chugged a coke and punctuated the act with an earthshaking belch.

Duo climbed into his bed with a shadow of his former grin tugging at his lips. [_Maybe then I could meet her . . .]_ His thoughts slowly trailed off as he drifted off into dreams, allowing fatigue to overwhelm his body.

*********************************************************************

The intricately carved crystal glass slipped from the now limp fingers. And slowly tumbling top over bottom to the floor, it shattered into unrecognizable pieces. The crash rang the large room and the sleeping Arab woke with a jump. He rubbed his face wearily before standing.

"I can't believe I did it again," the blonde scolded himself as he expertly stepped over the broken glass on his way to the kitchen. He returned to the living room with a dirt devil and quickly vacuumed up the tiny shard. [_I'm so sick of this._] He slid the minivac into its case on the wall.

"Four A.M.," he sighed glancing at the clock on his microwave, "I'm never going to be able to fall back asleep." He trudged to the bathroom; shedding his clothes along the way, in a manner reminiscent of Hanzel and Gretel's breadcrumb trail. His feet slid across the cold marble floor to the shower. He grasped the golden handle and pulled open the glass door. The petite Arab turned on the faucet and held his hand under the stream long enough to be sure the water has warmed up. Then he climbed into the stall.

Standing under the spray, he simply let it run over his body. Washing away last night, rinsing away the regret. His slumped posture and melancholy expression as he stood in the sprinkle, have him the appearance of a little lost child in a display case.

After about 15 minutes of this quasi purification, he shut off the water, pushed the door open and stepped out onto the white terrycloth rug. Pulling a towel off of the nearby rack, he quickly rubbed himself dry. He folded the towel neatly in thirds and draped it back over the rack. Upon reaching his bedroom closet, he swung the door open. He grabbed a random pair of jeans and white undershirt. [_At least I don't have class today._] He yanked the slightly rough fabric up his legs and over his hips. Buttoning and zipping the pants, he bent to grab his tee from its resting spot on the floor. He pulled the shirt over his head as he left his seldom-used bedroom. 

Strolling into the living room, the Sandrock pilot returned to his perch at the window. He picked up his old friend and placed it under his chin. He plucked each string to tune: E, A, D, G; perfect, as usual. He closed his eyes, disregarding the sheet music, and raised the bow to the strings. As he ever-so-gently pulled the rosin-covered horsehair across the strands of metal, a warm soft sound filled the room. Instinctively, he paused long enough to nudge the window open with his elbow. Quatre breathed in the cool spring breeze and released the breath with a low sigh. Soon the air of the campus was filled with the sweet sound of his playing. Quatre never needed to look at the music because every note came from his heart. The tune was sad and slow; telltale of a broken heart. The mezzo piano notes rang out legato chords with a strong vibrato. But the melody quickly increased in tempo and complexity. His nimble fingers danced along the neck of the violin with perfect precision. Trills, triplets, and crescendo into 16th note slurs and 32nd note runs. Quatre quickly let his heart escape with the melody as his dexterous hands caressed the bow and strings.

**********************************************************************

Bits of light peered over the treetops, streaking the previously dark sky. Duo sat in the garden, eyes trained on the unfolding sunset. He knew, as he sat, that his heart was searching for something. But what? As the changing colors of the horizon entranced him, the cool morning air became saturated with the soft sound of a distant violin. The braided pilot's mind and body relaxed into the vaguely familiar melody. The song crept into his heart and ran through his range of emotions. Duo's brow furrowed as he suddenly felt the loneliness of the piece. As the notes circled his heart, he knew something was missing; someone was missing. The music grew in intensity, drawing him deeper into the melody until it ended in one last dying note; half of a beautiful chord. His heart cried out for the song and its musician. He sensed an intimacy; an understanding, as if he and the musician shared a tacit bond.

**********************************************************************

The blonde violinist found a subtle solace sitting on his bay window in these early hours. He looked out to the garden, saw the melancholy brunette, and a half-smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. [_I bet you can relate._] He laid his violin in its case gently, as if it were an infant, and retired to his chamber. There he spent the day trying, rather unsuccessfully, to distract himself.

**********************************************************************

Weeks passed and Duo still had not spoken to Quatrina. He had seen her several times around campus, but every time he saw her, his usually reliable knees went weak. She always looked even more glorious than before. And surprisingly, Duo completely lost his gift of gab and found himself utterly speechless in the background. He soon began to think that he would never meet her. But as always, fate intervened.

One sunny Wednesday afternoon, Duo was walking out of the main classroom building in his usual posture: hands in pockets, shoulders hunched, and head down. [_I know that this is a comm link for Neo- Oz, but I don't know any details. How exactly are they using this school for their dastardly deeds?_]He became so engrossed in his ponderings that he did not notice that he was quickly approaching a petite blonde waving goodbye to some friends. As she turned around to walk, she was met head-on by a freight train named Duo Maxwell.

The Deathscthye pilot crashed into someone and his thoughts immediately returned to the problems at hand. Reflexes in full effect, he reached out and wrapped his arms around the blonde's waist before she fell over. He pulled her to her feet and found himself conveniently close to her. Unfortunately his face was red with embarrassment. She slowly began to lift her head and he fumbled for a clumsy attempt at an apology, "Well, I . . . that is . . .er . . ." But before he could form any coherent sentences, she lifted her head to fully face him. Duo looked deeply into the large aqua eyes, his arms still around the slender waist, and his jaw hit the ground. 

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Quatre's eyes widened and blinked in astonishment as he came face to face with a pair of violet eyes. "Duo?! What are you doing here?!"

To be continued. . . 

Please review. . . I crave feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

Renaissance

by skyprincess

Disclaimers: There are very few things that I can count as my own. I have pens, papers, and a pair of fuzzy leopard print slippers, but Gundam Wing is definitely not one of them. My payment for the story is hopefully your (the readers') enjoyment, but I am in no way monetarily compensated for my work. So no law suits please. I can't afford a trial.

Warnings: shonen-ai, language, severe angsty drama, and a cross-dressed Quatre

Chapter 3:

Duo had no answers. The girl he'd been lusting after for over a month was none other than his dear friend and comrade in arms, Quatre. For the first time in his life, Duo was speechless.

They both stood there, for what seemed like an eternity, gaping in shock. Almost simultaneously, they realized that they still had their arms around each other. The two boys practically jumped away from each other, both blushing several shades of red.

Regaining his composure, Quatre looked at his still motionless friend and sighed. "We need to talk," the blonde said flatly, "Let's go to my room. It's more private."

Duo nodded in agreement as he attempted to recover from the initial shock.

"Oh! One more thing, Duo. . . shut your mouth."

The gaping jaw snapped shut and the brunette followed Quatre up the stairs in front of the dorms, then to the elevator, and up to the tenth floor. The boys walked the short distance down the hall to the only visible door.

"Are you the only one who lives up here?" Duo asked curiously.

"Oh no," Quatre replied with a laugh, "My room only takes up half of the floor."

The beginnings of Duo's usual smart-ass response was cut off as his jaw once again hit the floor (it has spent a lot of time there lately). The American only blinked at the lush contents displayed by the now open penthouse door. Candelabras and mirrors fashioned from gold lined the corridor which lead into a spacious living room. Past the end of the hall, Duo saw a large bay window with a cream satin bench. On the seat lay an open violin case and in front of it say a shiny metal music stand. Duo also noted that the window offered a perfect view of the gardens. 

As they entered, the room curved to the left. On the south wall was an extremely large fireplace lined with skilled stonework. Large mahogany doors stood on either side of the wall around the fireplace. In front of the hearth a loveseat and matching sofa were positioned with three mahogany tables: one on either end and one between the two sofas. The Victorian upholstery swirled with an almost paisley pattern of deep purples and greens, lined with gold trim and tassels. A cherry-wood table with two matching chairs stood against the north wall. A large ornate Iranian rug covered a large portion of the marble floor. Dainty Tiffany lamps cast dim lighting over the entire room.

Duo then looked towards the very back of the room. He scanned the burgundy chair and ottoman, and eyed the cabinet with concern. Although quite lovely, these pieces of furniture seemed so secluded. 

Initially, the braided wonder stood in awe of the luxurious accommodations. Then he remembered that Quatre is a Winner and can have just about anything he pleases. But he usually doesn't want very much. He began to inspect several pieces of art hanging from the north wall. A piece by Dali, one by Renaud, they were practically ancient and probably worth a fortune. 

While Duo was preoccupied, Quatre headed back towards the mini-bar. [_It's good to see Duo again. Now I can finally talk to someone who understands me._] "Hey Duo! Want something to drink?" the Arab called as he took two glasses from the shelf.

"Sure. Waddya got?" Duo replied as he looked over a work from Pablo Picasso's blue period.

"Maritini and Rossi, Amaretto, Dewar's, Bacardi, Absolut. . ."

"Quatre!?!? I thought you meant Coke or Sprite!"

"Oh no, the bar's fully stocked," Quatre replied pouring himself scotch on the rocks. 

"Well in that case," Duo grinned, "I'll have a little rum and coke."

The blonde pilot quickly poured an ounce of Bacardi into a glass of ice and added a splash of Coke. He handed the drink to Duo and they both sat down on the sofa. For a moment, the pilots sat in silence, looking at each other, and soaking in the reality of the situation.

"You're the one I always see in the garden," Quatre thought sipping the scotch.

"Yeah. . . I go out there to think."

"Well, what are you up to here?"

"Well, I know that this school serves as a communication link for Neo-Oz. My mission is to find out how their messaging system works and attempt to shut it down."

"I see." 

The American frowned slightly, "Now it's my turn to ask some questions. What are you doing here?"

Quatre finished his drink in one gulp, then looked at Duo and answered, "Obviously there are Neo-Oz officials already here undercover. I'm supposed to get any info and identification on them that I can, so that I can also find their base of operation."

The violet-eyed boy watched Quatre pull at his hair-bow absentmindedly, chugged his cocktail, and looked deep into Quatre's eyes, searching the large blue pools.

The blonde blushed under the heat of Duo's stare. [Why is he looking at me like that?] In addition to nervously fidgeting, he began to nervously bite his bottom lip.

Duo sat the glass down on a nearby table, breaking the gaze. He sat for a moment looking at the floor and then met Quatre's eyes once again. "Quatre. . ." he began slowly, "Forgive me if I'm prying, but. . . why are you dressed like a girl. Don't get me wrong, you look great. . . but why?"

The cherubic face clouded over and the ivory cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Please! Don't tell the others!" he practically begged. Duo gently nodded his head, coaxing Quatre to continue.

"I. . . I. . . I wanted to be beautiful," the petite boy blurted out. After acknowledging the look of surprise on his friend's face, he continued, "When Trowa left, I felt so lost. . . so worthless. I thought if I were beautiful, maybe Trowa would love me. . . if I were a girl, maybe he would've stayed. So I tried to make myself everything that I thought he wanted. I surrounded myself with everything beautiful, but it only succeeded in making me feel uglier."

Duo's heart went out to his friend as he sow tears welling up in Quatre's eyes. He wrapped his arms around the Arabs back and pulled the petite pilot into a tight hug. "It's okay Q, you can let it out," he cooed soothingly.

Quatre felt so safe in the arms of his best friend. His head rested against Duo's soft braid which smelled of chamomile and jasmine. He let the tears flow freely, softly sobbing in the protective circle of Duo's arms. 

The American gently stroked the blonde hair with one hand, and held Quatre tightly with the other. He whispered soft words of comfort in Quatre's ear. He wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to protect the little blonde.

Gripping Duo's shirt in whitened knuckles, the blue-eyed boy silently wept. They remained this way well into the night. Quatre finally released many of the feelings that he had hidden from the human eye, and Duo finally found someone who needed him just as much as he needed them.

As Quatre's tears subsided, he sat back and rubbed his red eyes. He looked at the brunette apologetically and opened his mouth to say something, but Duo cut him off, "Don't even say you're sorry. I'm your friend. This is what I'm here for. Now," he placed his hands on the petite blonde's shoulders and looked into the aquamarine eyes, "What happened between you and Trowa? What did he do to cause you so much pain?"

The Sandrock pilot sighed deeply choking back a sob. "It was five months ago," he started with a far-away look in his eyes, "I was preparing for his return from an assignment and I planned out the entire night so he could just relax. Tickets to the theatre, dinner, the whole nine yards. I had his suit ready when he got home. He looked so weary when he walked in, that I almost canceled the whole evening. But he said he was fine. . . anything for his angel." Quatre paused to look at Duo who was listening intently. "So, we went out. I chatted excitedly the whole time, but Trowa was very silent, even for him. He almost seemed melancholy. When we got back to the house, I wanted to talk but every time I opened my mouth, Trowa crushed his against mine." Duo looked a little taken aback by the personal information, but nodded for his friend to continue. "So, we made love and afterwards I waited for Trowa to talk. That's how things worked. I guess the sex loosened him up or something. But that night he didn't hold me and he wouldn't talk. He just sat at the edge of the bed staring at the floor. Worried, I climbed across the bed and wrapped my arms around him from behind. He relaxed into my arms, close his eyes, and sighed deeply. When he opened them, he pulled off my arms and turned around to face me. Out of the blue he asked, 'Quatre, so you really believe that there's a person out there for everyone?' I nodded my head. Then he asked, 'What if someone is you're "right" person, but you're not theirs?' I was so confused by his questions," tears welled up in the blue eyes and Duo pulled him close again. Quatre continued his story through sentences broken by sobs, "I just sat across from him and thought, 'We love each other, of course we're right for each other. What are you talking about?' I guess he read the look on my face well, because he said, don't worry little one and kissed my forehead. He carried me back to the head of the bed and climbed under the covers with me. Feeling reassured, I slipped into a deep and fitful sleep. When I woke up the nest morning, I was alone in bed. I got up and looked around the house for him and noticed that the corvette that I gave him was not in the garage. I thought he might have had work to do, so I went back up to the bedroom to get dressed. I opened the closet door and. . . and. . ." The story became increasingly difficult to understand through the heart-wrenching sobs. "All of his clothes were gone. I ran to the library. His books and laptop were gone. His flute wasn't in the music hall. There was no note. . . no letter. . . no message. . . no goodbye. He left me! He ran away in the night and he didn't even tell me or call me or send me a letter! He just left me all alone!"

The slight frame convulsed in sorrow. The small boy wept violently on Duo's shoulder. [_How could anyone hurt Quatre? He's so lost and vulnerable. Why would Trowa leave him so cold-heartedly? Why would anyone break his beautiful spirit?_] The braided pilot scooted down on the sofa so Quatre could lean against him more comfortably.

He didn't know how long he cried, but the tears seemed endless. Seeking the all of the comfort Duo had to offer, he buried himself in the warm embrace. Caught up in the warring emotions, Quatre did not feel fatigue permeate his consciousness. Some time later, and after much solace, the Arabian pilot was lulled into a light sleep by the soft chestnut hair, gentle words, and the scent of chamomile and jasmine. 


	4. Chapter 4

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is mine forever! Mwahahahahahahaha! No not really. . . but after a moment of not so careful consideration, I wish it was. Those pilots are just so gosh darn cute when you put them in generally fubared situations. So Bandai, etc. etc. missed out on a lot of good opportunities. Their loss.

Warnings: none really, Quatre is still a la femme, though.

[blah]=thoughts

Chapter 4:

Brilliant violet eyes blinked several times as sunlight washed over the room. "Omigod, I fell asleep!" the braided wonder realized a little bit too late. Trying to rub the fog from his memory of the previous night, he looked down at the petite blonde in his arms and smiled as his protective instincts returned when his memory cleared. Quatre was curled into a ball almost entirely on Duo's lap. The alabaster hands were still gripping the front of Duo's shirt and the golden head nuzzled up against Duo's neck. Duo's arms were still around the smaller boy, resting on the small of Quatre's back. He lifters his left hand and brushed back the flaxen bangs. "You're like a little angel," he whispered into the ear of the still sleeping Quatre. Knowing that he'd still be tired, Duo didn't disturb Quatre. He simply soaked up the morning sun, and slowly ran his fingers through the platinum locks. "Poor thing," Duo murmured, "I can't believe that Trowa did that to you. . . I won't let it happen again. I'll keep an eye on you. I promise."

************************************************************************

Quatre's eyelids began to twitch as his internal alarm clock told him he'd slept in. But the sandrock pilot was reluctant to get up and face the day. For the first morning in a long time, he felt all warm and cozy. He didn't want to end it by opening his eyes. 

The aqua pools slowly fluttered open, and he waited for them to adjust to the bright morning light. As he regained his vision, Quatre saw something that seemed entirely out of place. Duo's face gradually came into focus, and the little Arab racked his sleep-hazed memory. Upon recollection of the cause of Duo's unexpected presence, the fair face flushed bright crimson. 

"Good morning sunshine!" Duo chirped at the bleary-eyed, red-faced toe-headed boy. 

"Oh Duo! I didn't mean to fall asleep like this. I'm so sor. . ."

"What did I say about apologies?" Duo interrupted, "I'm your friend. It's my job to be there for you. Besides, I could've left if I'd wanted to."

The blonde studied his friend's face and the determined look of sincerity in the amethyst eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you for being such a good friend to me," he said with a smile, "What time is it?"

"1000 hours," the alleged God of Death replied, laughing as Quatre released a monster yawn, "Everyone has been at class for hours. . . but I have a better idea of how to spend the day." He swiftly lifted the blonde bundle out of his lap and set him on his feet. "First of all, I have a question for you." Quatre, still costumed as the fairer sex looked at his friend expectantly. "Are you the one who plays the violin at all kinds of weird hours?"

The smaller pilot blushed again, but sheepishly nodded his head.

"Good. . . I thought so. Well in that case, would you be so kind as to give me the pleasure of a private concert?"

The Arabian's heart skipped a beat. It'd been so long since anyone had asked him to play. "Of course I will!" He hurried to his case on the bench and removed his bow and rosin. After running the small orange black along the white hairs several times, he capped it and placed it in a time compartment is his case. He them pulled out the requested instrument and adjusted his chin rest. Closing his eyes, Quatre let his heart find a song. Nimble fingers eased the bow into the first measure.

Duo's breath caught in his throat as Quatre first drew the bow across the strings. The piece seemed similar to the other song Quatre played, but only for the first few measures. It quickly sped into a rollicking tune that invoked images of fey dancing in the woods. The piece was light-hearted and reminded Duo of laughter. Quatre's fingers joyfully played hopscotch along the neck of the violin. Although the blue-green eyes were closed and his expression was somewhat serious, a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of Quatre's mouth. The intricate piece ended with a slurred eighth note run into a simple staccato quarter note.

Duo loved it, even though classical music wasn't really his thing. The melody described the Quatre from his memory and as the flaxen haired musician stood, framed in golden rays, Duo knew he had never seen anything more beautiful. His dear friend Quatre looked too good for this dark existence.

For a moment, the world stood still. Quatre's bow still rested on the strings and his eyes remained closed. The braided pilot sat on the edge of his seat in awe of his little friend.

Leisurely, the aqua eyes opened, and Quatre removed the violin from under his chin. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his heart. He regarded his breathless friend and smiled. . . not just any smile: Quatre's special smile that he saved for moments of pure and simple bliss. The sweet expression epitomized innocent joy and a love of life. 

As Duo sat on the receiving end of the innocent smile and felt a warm sensation rush over his entire body. Finally remembering his obligations in response to the stellar performance, he burst into applause. Watching the modest blush creep across Quatre's cheeks, the braided boy determined to show him the time of his life today. "That was amazing Q! What a way to start the day!" Quatre listened still smiling as he cleaned his instrument and laid it in its case. "Well," Duo continued, "We're goin' out. You can dress in your normal Quatre clothes if you want. Nobody'll know. . . they're all at class. Besides, I kinda like you as yourself. I'm gonna go change. I'll be back in a little bit."

Quatre sat on the creamy bench in silence, listening to the braided boy talk excitedly. He couldn't have stopped his own mounting enthusiasm if he'd wanted to; Duo's vigor was so contagious. He watched his friend hurry down the hall and out the door, braid trailing behind. The blonde shook his head in disbelief, "How does Duo have such boundless amounts of energy?" He hopped up from his seat and headed towards the bathroom. He shed his uniform and tossed it the hamper. Swinging the shower door open, he quickly spun the shower nobs and climbed in to the stream. The water was slightly cold at first and shivers inched sown his slender body. Oddly, he didn't mind; the cool water actually felt rather refreshing. He poured a nickel-sized dallop of Pert Plus into his palm and worked up a lather in his fine blonde hair. He stepped back under the now warmer spray and rinsed the suds from his hair and body. 

After towel drying, he ran a comb through his hair a few times. Disregarding his blow dryer, he reached for his pump-mousse. He worked a small peak of the foam through his golden locks and then combed his hair into a style they hadn't seen in weeks. He brushed his teeth with haste and took a moment to smile at his reflection. "Welcome back," he whispered to the boy in the mirror. 

Unabashedly naked, he left the bathroom and headed for his closet. Approaching a fairly unused box, Quatre pulled out a pair of briefs and a white undershirt. [These are much more comfortable than what I usually wear.] After rummaging through the large closet, he finally decided upon a pair of khaki Structure pants and a light blue, long-sleeved button down. A brown leather belt and matching brown oxfords completed the look. Satisfied with his appearance, he went into the living room to wait for his friend. 

With in five minutes he heard the door swing open and shut loudly. Duo came bounding through the hall calling, "Hey, Quat! Are ya ready?" Quatre gave Duo a once over as he entered the room. The brunette pilot's hair was pulled into its trademark braid. The Arab did a double take, admiring the thick chestnut locks. [Is it even possible for that braid to be longer than it used to?] Duo wore black sketchers with dark denim cargo pants and a black belt. Quatre eyed his friend's tight black t-shirt and could mot miss the toned chest through the light fabric. [The years have been good to you, Duo. He looks almost as muscular as Trowa.] Quatre immediately kicked himself for thinking of Trowa when Duo was trying to cheer him up. 

Duo saw a frown briefly pass across Quatre's face, but it gone as quickly as it appeared. A smile replaced the worried look and the smaller boy asked, "So what are we gonna do?"

At that moment, Duo's stomach decided to loudly make its presence known and the owner of said organ smiled sheepishly at his friend, "I thought we might start with some lunch."

Quatre jumped up. "Great! I know just the place," he beamed.

"Awesome, my jeep is in the back lot." 


	5. Chapter 5

Standard Disclaimer: You know the drill. They're not mine, wish they were, etc.

Warnings: Shonen ai hints

[blah] = thoughts

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 5:

The pair of boys climbed into the teal jeep, and sped out of the parking lot. Duo had left the top off, and the wind ruffled their hair as the vehicle rushed down the interstate. Before long, they were seated in a familiar booth at Quatre's favorite café. After perusing the menu for about a nanosecond, Duo ordered a cheeseburger and a cherry coke. Quatre had his usual deli tuna and raspberry iced tea. They ate and talked, discussing philosophy and literature, movies and video games. Duo learned of a few books he should check out, and Quatre decided to learn more about this "playstation" thing. They split the check, left a healthy tip for Maggie, and headed out. The pair headed down mainstreet chatting and looking in shop windows, with Duo clutching Quatre's arm unconsciously, whenever he got excited. Quatre simply smiled at the gesture.

They approached a music shop, and before Quatre knew what was happening, he was being dragged inside. Wall to wall instruments, music accessories, sheet music, and apparel lay before him. He watched Duo walk up to the counter and talk to the balding man behind it. They seemed to know each other. Duo motioned for Quatre to follow. The blonde walked to the back of the store where Duo was holding a door open. As he entered the dimly lit room, Quatre watched Duo walk past him to a drum set standing near the center of the room. The blonde looked on as Duo climbed into the stool behind the set and adjusted the drums to his reach.

The violet eyes lit on Quatre and winked, "You're not the only one with musical secrets." The braided boy then picked up the drum-sticks, spun them on his finders, and in one fluid motion, brought them onto down onto the instrument. He began with a very modern drum piece. Quatre could only gaze in amazement at the raw power displayed as the sticks flew across the drums and cymbals. Duo's muscles flexed with every motion. Sweat droplets formed on his forehead and dripped down his bangs; glistening under the lamplight. The cotton shirt, dampened by perspiration, clung to every curve of his chest, more to than before.

The American slowed to a soft roll on a snare and Quatre found himself gaping at his friend. Without warning, Duo sped into a loud fast jazz drum solo. The beat worked its way into Quatre penetrating his barriers. It was like a heartbeat in sync with his. Duo's eyes fluttered shut and he adroitly continued the improve piece. The frantic rhythm mesmerized Quatre. It stirred something within him; something primal. . . something he had locked away. He found that as Duo finished the piece taking deep breaths, he was breathing heavily as well. As he stared at the intense gleam I the amethyst eyes his heart raced. 

Duo peeled the sweaty shirt from his body and tossed it aside. As Quatre gazed at the gleaming muscular chest, his breath caught in his throat. Duo's lips curled into a mysterious smile. [Mona Lisa eat your heart out.] His husky voice draped the air as it crawled its way across the room to Quatre's ears, "You're not going to let me have all of the fun, are ya, Q?"

Quatre shivered at the natural sensuality of Duo's voice, and fumbled for something to say, before noticing a large object behind Duo. He walked over to the covered item. [How did he do that to me?] There was no dust on the cover, so he yanked it off. [A piano?!] He experimentally tapped a few keys on the upright. [It's in tune . . . must be played regularly.] He stepped behind the instrument and looked at Duo, who winked at him again. His face flushed deep crimson, but it wasn't embarrassment . . . what then? It was . . . it . . . was . . . HOT?! Yes, he felt extremely warm, and he didn't know why. [It must be this silly long-sleeved shirt.]

Duo started a light tempo on a cymbal and watched out of the corner of his eye as Quatre unbuttoned the oxford and removed it, leaving the blonde in his undershirt. [Alright! Q-man's loosening up!]

Quatre cracked his knuckles and let his fingers hover over the keys momentarily, as he soaked up the beat Duo had begun. And the rhythm hit him in the core of his being, deep with in his soul. His fingers sprang into action, glancing off of keys, pumping out a jazz riff that Ella Fitzgerald would be proud of. Blue, jazz, ragtime . . . Quatre let his fingers do the talking, filling the room with the hot, heavy notes. He had never felt so free in his entire life.

Duo silently mused. [Q and I are having a jam session. I don't believe it!] He skillfully followed the blonde pianist matching intricate melody with complex rhythm. They fed off of each other's energy. It was like they were on . . . they knew what the other would do next and followed the lead. Back and forth, back and forth; the momentum built until in a grand exhibition they finished in a climactic finale fit for Broadway, New Orleans, and Chicago, all in one. Both sat there for a moment just breathing, not wanting to break the enchantment that had settled over the small practice room. 

Finally, Duo laughed and swung around on the stool, his braid whipping behind him. "Man Q . . . I didn't know you could swing like that!"

Quatre smiled the most genuinely beautiful smile that Duo had ever and replied, "You're not so bad yourself." The boys returned the instruments to their original condition, and retrieved their shirts. Upon exiting the room, they froze in their tracks. The shop lights were out and no one was there. Through windows they saw streetlights shining against the dark sky.

"How long were we in there?" Quatre asked dumbfounded.

"I have not a clue, but there's a note on the counter," Duo picked it up and read aloud, "Do ahead and leave. The door will lock behind you. Great music! Charlie"

Taking in his friend's surprised expression, Duo shrugged and headed for the door. They left the shop discussing those that had made jazz great: Duke Ellington . . . Louis Armstrong . . . Billie Holliday . . . Nat King Cole . . . Without noticing the trip home, a pause in the conversation found them in the parking lot of the school.  



	6. Chapter 6

Standard Disclaimer: How many times do I have to admit that no matter how much I want them, I don't own the Gundam boys?! 

Warnings: language, Shonen ai hints, underage drinking, cross-dressing

A/N: Sorry I've been so slow about getting these chapters out. I hope to be able to post a lot while I'm out of school for Winter Break.

[blah] = thoughts

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 6:

After blinking a few times at the buildings, [How did we get here so fast?] Duo disregarded the door, and jumped out of his jeep. Quatre stifled a giggle and opted to actually use his door, and Duo playfully scoffed, "Conformity," before resuming their earlier conversation. 

The boys fell silent as they passed through the halls of the dorm. Careful not to alert anyone to Quatre's unfemale appearance, they slipped down the corridors to the elevator, using all of their training. 

Upon entering Quatre's room, Duo flopped onto the sofa. Quatre disappeared momentarily, only to return with two bottles of Evian. Duo quickly chugged his and set the now empty plastic on the nearby table. Quatre had a strange and sudden urge to reach out and wipe away the stray droplets that eluded Duo's mouth and now dripped down his chin, but he hastily quashed the idea.

"Man, your friends must love coming up to your room," Duo concluded, breaking the silence. The blonde abruptly found something interesting on the floor. He studied it silently, not wanting to meet Duo's gaze, although he could feel the amethyst eyes burning into him.

"Q, are you okay?"

A soft voice responded slowly, "You're the first person to ever come into my room."

Duo sat in flattered shock, "The first? Not even that girl I always see you with?"

"No, not even Sissa. I'm really quite embarrassed by it and I don't really trust anyone enough to let them in."

It was at that moment that Duo remembered how self-conscious Quatre was about his family's wealth. Then the weight of Quatre's last sentence hit him like a bag of bricks. [Quatre?! Not trust people?!?! My God! What has Trowa done to you?!] "Quatre, I . . ." he began, but was promptly interrupted.

"Duo, please listen to me. I haven't had so much fun in a long time. You are one of the only people I can talk freely with, and I enjoy your company more than I can say. You make me laugh," he paused and smiled shyly at his friend, "I would appreciate it greatly if you would move up here with me. I have an extra room. We can put your stuff in there. Please, Duo? For the first time in months, I don't feel so lonely."

Duo's heart broke at those words. [If only you knew.] How could he refuse . . . why would he refuse. The opportunity to live in the lap of luxury, with his best friend. . . sounds good. In fact, the idea thrilled him. He answered in a remarkably calm voice, "Of course Q, but what are we gonna say?"

"Leave the registrars and dean to me."

"You know, it's going to look pretty scandalous for me and Quatrina to be sharing a dorm," Duo stated, raising an eyebrow.

"Let them think what they will," Quatre replied with a smile.

"Alright then. Let's have a toast." Duo walked over to the mini-bar and searched momentarily before extracting two wine glasses and champagne and walking back to where Quatre sat.

The blonde grinned, "You sure know your way around those."

"It's second nature to me," Duo replied, filling the glasses.

"Mmm. Martini and Rossi? . ."

"What can I say, it's the bubbly." He handed a glass to Quatre who looked at him expectantly. "A toast to new roommates," Duo exclaimed and added to himself [And an end to loneliness.] 

The glasses clinked and the boys sipped and chatted and sipped and chatted for hours, until the bottle was gone and they passed out on the sofa.

Once again, Quatre's internal alarm saved his ass. Morning rays tickled his eyelids until they opened. He stretched and yawned and stumbled into the kitchen. The microwave glowed 7:00. He scratched the back of his head and poured a glass of o.j. The slightly hung-over blonde shuffled back to the sofa. He gently nudged Duo whispering, "Rise and shine, sleepyhead. We've got class in an hour."

Duo groaned . . . Why did morning have to be so damn early? He rolled onto his back and looked up into Quatre's gentle face. [How can anyone look so good in the morning?] His morning voice came out huskier than usual, "Hey Q, what's up?"

The Arab smiled as Duo yawned, "I brought you some juice. During lunch I'm going to take care of the room arrangements."

Duo thankfully took the beverage and let it run down his dry throat. His voice sounded more normal as he said, "Thanks . . . I had the worst case of cotton mouth."

"No problem. But I have to get ready, and it's a bit of a process."

Duo grimaced slightly. "Understood. I gotta go too. I'll talk to you after class. Good luck with the room thing," and with that, Duo was out the door.

The blonde went through his transformation process and emerged from the bathroom as Quatrina. He went to his classes, hung out with Sissa, visited the registrar about changing Duo's room, and went up to his room to wait.

Duo's day went by like molasses. He had a lot to think about and wasn't given any good opportunities to do so. He grew impatient and headed towards the gardens. [Fuck afternoon classes.] He sat out there on his usual bench, absorbing the soft breeze, sweet spring scent, and lovely surroundings. The snapdragons by the fountain were in full bloom and he admired their beauty and simplicity. "There's so much shit that I don't understand," he sighed.

Quatre sat in his room wondering where Duo was. He glanced at his watch: 5:30, almost sunset. He jumped to his feet in realization, "I know where Duo always is at sunset," he told the empty room, before hurrying out.

The blonde approached the garden hesitantly, not wanting to disturb his friend's thoughts. He looked out and saw Duo seated under a crepe myrtle tree. The features of his delicate face were relaxed with serenity as the light breezes swept through the long bangs. Lavender crepe myrtle blossoms floated down around him. They flipped, curled, and spun during their descent; dancing about the violet eyed pilot. The scene was truly picturesque and at that moment Quatre realized how gentle and peaceful the so-called Shinigami really was.


	7. Chapter 7

Standard Disclaimer: Not mine blah, blah, blah . . . 

Warnings: cross-dressing, shonen ai, strong language, nervous breakdown

A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters. I hope you all like it too.

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 7:

A light rustle tore Duo from his thoughts. He looked up and saw a blonde "girl" standing hesitantly at the edge of the garden. The look of uncertainty on Quatre's face brought a smile to Duo's. He stood and strolled over to where his friend stood. Foregoing a greeting, the braided boy simply asked, "How'd it go?"

"The rooms? We're in."

"Great! I'll move my stuff up Saturday."

They walked back to the dorms in a subdued silence, and went their separate ways with minimal farewells. Duo unlocked his door, all the while whistling. Tommy sat just in side with a parent's you're-home-past-curfew look on his face. "Where the hell have you been?" he fumed.

"Out."

"With who?"

"What business is it of your?"

"I'm your roommate; I have a right to know."

"Humph. Not for long."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm moving in with someone else."

"When?! Who?!"

"If you must know . . . Saturday. Quat."

"What?!?!"

"I don't have time for this. I need a shower."

Tommy yelled after him as he left the room, "Oh yeah, real mature . . . walk out on our conversation."

Saturday came in the blink of an eye and the two pilots spent majority of the day moving Duo's personal items. They celebrated with dinner; Duo cooked. Quatre savored every bite of the amazingly good stuffed chicken, "I didn't know you could cook, Duo." Duo's only answer was a wink.

The weeks passed in this happy arrangement. As it turns out, Quatre loved playstation, especially epic role-playing games, like Final Fantasy and Vagrant Story. Duo, on the other hand, found a special connection to Dante's "The Divine Comedy."

************************************************************************

On a starless Saturday night, Quatre sat in the room alone, staring into the china cabinet. "Two years. Today would have been two years. I bet you don't think about that though. You're too busy thinking about yourself," the words were mumbled and barely coherent. Tears clouded his eyes, while his thoughts were overcast with grief. The petite frame shook so violently, that it almost appeared to break. He choked on his forceful sobs as his emotional dam broke. 

"Was it just a game?!" he screamed into the empty room, "Cute, little innocent Quatre. Don't worry about him, he'll be fine . . ." His rants trailed off and for a brief second, the hurricane of heartbreak seemed to pass, but it was only the eye of the storm.

The azure eyes locked on the large cabinet as if spotting the enemy. Instantly, he was on his feet, lunging at the cherry armoire and practically ripping its doors off.

************************************************************************

"Man, what a great basketball game," Duo told the elevator, "I played like a champ . . . and they say white boys can't jump." He chuckled to himself as the doors prepared to open. Upon entering the hallway, he heard a loud crash coming from his and Quatre's room. Fear gripped his heart. [My God! Quatre!] Without wasting a moment, Duo was in the door and down the hall, but he wasn't prepared for what lay ahead. 

Quatre stood in the middle of a pile of broken glass, from the doors he had ripped from the china cabinet. Tears flowed down the flushed cheeks in steady streams. His swollen eyes glazed over and the sounds that escaped his mouth were not words. They sounded more like broken weeping mingled with a strangled battle cry.

Duo watched in horror as his gentle friend extracted a small picture in a glass frame from the remains of the cabinet, studied it for a few seconds, and then heaved it at the wall. Quatre wasn't breathing; it was more like infrequent spasms of the lungs. He pulled out a figurine of a flautist and repeated the process.

He then pulled out a rather large picture in an ornate white ceramic frame. His voice cracked, "I'm not a fucking doll! I am not to be toyed with Trowa! You can't just put me on the shelf, forget about me, and expect me to be there when you get back! I'm not you're precious angel! I'm not perfect and I've got fucking feelings! I'm not so optimistic that it didn't hurt when you left. I'm not the sweet innocent! For you I would have gone to hell and back! I would have been anything you wanted! But it wasn't goddamn enough! Two fucking years, you flushed at the blink of an eye, the drop of a hat, with out a second thought! Fuck you and your selfish pretensions! Oh wait, I already did that!"

Before he could throw the heavy picture at the wall, he felt two strong arms wrap around him; pinning his arms to his sides, yet maintaining a compassionate hug. The smell of chamomile and jasmine flooded his senses, and his rage abandoned him in the comforting touch of his dearest friend. He collapsed, sobbing, into Duo's steady arms. 

The brunette held his smaller friend; Quatre seemed to shrink at that moment. Wilted in Duo's firm grasp, the fragile body trembled with every breath. Fragments of incoherent thoughts escaped his lips, "Years . . . today . . . two . . . left . . . over . . . over . . ."

Realization struck Duo. [Jesus fucking Christ! Today was their anniversary!] He softly stroked the little Arabian's back, whispering in his ear, "Shh. I know it hurts and you feel all alone and it seems like there's only darkness, but there's hope. There's always hope. You helped me learn that."

Quatre's own words seemed so far away. He felt like he was falling. He clung to his friend for support, for strength, for . . . hope. 

Duo continued, "Don't worry pal, I'll protect you. From this day on, I swear that no one will hurt you like this again. I won't let 'em." He pulled the weeping blonde into his arms and carried him to the sofa. "No one will hurt you ever again . . . I promise."

Just after placing his semi-conscious friend on the couch, Duo realized both of Quatre's feet were bleeding. Immediately, Quatre was back in his arms and he rushed to the bathroom. He sat the small pilot on the bench of the rather large whirlpool tub. The braided boy rolled Quatre's khaki pants up to his knees and studied the delicate blood covered feet. After removing his jacket, the deathscythe pilot began to extract shards of glass, like an expert podiatrist. 

The task proved to be a difficult one for several reasons. First of all, the clear glass was hard to spot amongst the slotting blood and folds of skin. Secondly, he had to pull out the pieces without making the wounds worse. The process was tedious and time-consuming. 

After all of the shards were removed and glass filled the small plastic garbage can, Duo grabbed the detachable showerhead and began rinsing the crimson liquid from the ivory feet. When he had thoroughly cleansed the appendages, Duo searched the cabinets for topical medications or ointments. All he could find were isopropyl alcohol and bacitrin. [The alcohol will hurt, but he's half asleep, so it shouldn't be too bad.] The violet-eyed boy meticulously poured the hospital cleaner in the cuts. Quatre winced slights in his semisomnambulic state. Duo then rubbed bacatrin on the wounds and pulled fresh cotton socks onto the raw feet. He scooped Quatre up and carried the limp from to his bed. Removing the khakis and button down, Duo tucked his exhausted friend under the covers. Then, with determination, he set to work cleaning up the mess in the living room. 


	8. Chapter 8

Standard Disclaimer: I wish they were mine . . . I wish they were mine . . . Maybe if I chant long enough, the Gundam boys will be mine, because they aren't.

Warnings: language, shonen ai

[blah] = thoughts

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 8:

The blonde jumped up in bed. The sun shone through his blinds and birds sang outside his window. He then became aware of stinging pain in both of his feet. [How the hell did I end up here? What time is it? Why do my feet hurt? What happened?" His memory of the previous night passed in a vague haze. [Trowa . . . Duo . . . the cabinet!] Quatre leapt to his feet, but quickly regretted that decision as pain shot up both legs. He limped to the living room to inspect his mess. To both his dismay and relief, it was gone. The glass was swept away and the blood was washed out of the rug. What remained of his pictures stood on a small antique table and a standing cage with two colorful lovebirds sat where the cabinet used to be. The braided boy lay, passed out on the sofa, surrounded by a mop, a broom, a few buckets, and some receipts. Quatre could help but smile at the selfless bundle on the sofa. [Duo took care of me . . . he always does.] A look of sincere appreciation passed over the little Arabian's features. [He must be exhausted. I'll just let him sleep.] He yawned. [Besides, I could use some rest myself.]

He stumbled back to his room and flopped onto his fluffy bed. Reaching up, he twisted the blinds up to keep the sun out of his eyes, and then quickly fell into a deep sleep. 

Duo slowly rubbed his eyes. "What a long night," he yawned, "I need to get up and get out." He slowly pushed his reluctant body to a standing position and shuffled to his room. After a quick shower and change of clothes, Duo tiptoed to Quatre's bedroom to check on him. A little golden haired figure laid under three layers of blankets. The steady rise and fall of his chest told Duo he'd be fine. 

The deathscythe pilot walked into the living room, eyeing it skeptically and with growing concern. [This isn't the safest place in the world . . . especially for Gundam pilots . . . too isolated . . . but I can fix that.] And Duo set to work making some minor adjustments to the room. About an hour later, Duo stood near the entryway, dusting his hands, "Much better." He then turned and headed for the elevator.

A teal jeep sped down the highway; the driver's braid trailed behind him and his bangs whipped around his face. His carefree driving style belied his present feelings. So much confusion swelled within him. He didn't know who he was anymore. "Once again, Duo you are the nameless lost orphan to the world," he cried out, letting his words get lost in the wind.

He pulled into a spot in the city's parking garage and shut off the engine. Hopping out, he prepared to head into town, but stopped dead in his tracks. Duo had a sixth sense that warned him of impending danger. Perhaps it came from his close connection with Shinigami. He didn't know its origin and, quite frankly, didn't care. All that mattered was that at that moment he felt eyes burning into him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his stomach nearly flipped. The violet eyes darkened as the felling hit. [Someone's following me.] This feeling wasn't a fleeting sweat drop, or superstitious achy joint. It was as steady as a heartbeat and it flowed through every fiber of his being as natural as breathing.

He walked out naturally leading this "secret admirer" to a place where they could become more acquainted. Duo, well aware of the figure trailing him, wove through the streets and ducked into the alley. As he walked several steps into the passage, he disappeared into the shadows. He saw a dark figure enter the dimly lit passageway. Duo materialized behind his pursuer. "Looking for someone?" he asked smugly.

"Why yes, Duo, I am," came the coolly calm response.

Duo recognized that voice: deep, still, unwavering, "Trowa! How dare you follow me!"

The tall boy turned to face him, "At least I don't duck into an alley like a common thief."

"First of all, I'm far better than common. Second, I can't believe you would dare to show your face after what you did to Quatre," Duo wanted to ruffle those perfect bangs and smash Trowa's pretty little face. 

The emerald eyes clearly displayed pain at Duo's words, "I'm not here to start trouble . . . I want to talk to you."

"Why the hell do you want to talk to me?"

"Can we go somewhere a little more comfortable to have this discussion?"

"Sure, I know just the place," Duo said leading Trowa to a certain corner café.

************************************************************************

"Hey Maggie!" Duo said as he slid into his favorite booth.

"Hi Duo! What can I do for you?"

"The usual."

"Cheeseburger and cherry coke. Okay. And for your friend?"

"I'll have the herbed chicken soup," cam Trowa's nearly monotone response.

"Those'll be right out for ya," she said with a smile and bustled away towards the kitchen.

"Now," Duo began, "What brings you here and why are you following me."

"I . . . I . . . I was checking on Quatre, and wanted to make sure he was getting taken care of."

"Why do you care? You're the one who left him."

Trowa kept the calm façade; a survival technique he had learned long ago, but his eyes gave him away. The emerald depths glistened with tears unshed. Looking deep into them, Duo saw something he recognized: a sadness, a loneliness. Trowa's words came slowly, "Duo, do you think I hate Quatre?"

"Well, after you left him with no warning, how can I assume you like him very much?"

Their conversation paused as Maggie set down their food and they both offered brief thanks.

"Duo, I love him."

"What?!"

"I love him so much that his happiness is more important than my own."

"But he's miserable."

"Now he is, but in time, he'll be happier than he ever could have been with me."

"I don't understand."

"Listen, Quatre is the right person for me. He gave me compassion, support, and love; things I didn't know existed. But I'm not the right person for him. He needs someone who will talk to him, who can make him laugh, who will always be there when he's in trouble. I can't be that person for him, and as hard as it's been to leave him, I know in my heart that he'll be better off in the long run."

"So that's what he meant," the braided pilot murmured thoughtfully.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh! Nothing."

They ate for a few moments in uncomfortable silence.

"Anyway, I love Quatre and I'm sure that a part of me always will." Trowa's expression changed, the softened emotional features shifted to a protectively furrowed brow. "I know you two are . . . close. Take care of him, Duo."

"I swore that I'd protect him, and I will."

"There's far more to it than just protecting." 

Trowa's last statement confused the braided boy. [More to what?] He sat glass halfway to mouth, which hung open in unformed words, and he stared at his mysterious comrade. 

Trowa smirked at the American's confused expression, stifling a laugh. [That'll get him thinking.] He peered out under his bangs; the green eyes studied the face across the table. He watched the confusion subside as Duo regained control of his emotions. The uncertainty gave way to possessiveness. "I promised I'll take care of him," the deathscythe pilot growled. He knew Trowa was toying with him; he always plays mind games.

"That's what I hoped you'd say," Trowa sighed placing a $20 bill on the table. "Have a good day, Duo. And don't forget your promise." Without further explanation, the Latin boy left the café.


	9. Chapter 9

Standard Disclaimer: I want them!! *cries uncontrollably* But Sunrise and Bandai won't let me have them! I only get to use them sometimes. 

Warnings: language, shonen ai

A/N: Short chapter. ^_^;;

[blah] = thoughts

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 9:

Duo sat at the table and watched Trowa go. He was confused and angry and worried and just plain mixed up. [What the fuck is he talking about?!?! Why does he assume so much? I need to get out of here.] He added a few dollars to the 20 on the table and headed for his jeep.

After about 15 minutes, he found himself deep within the Appalachian Trail, looking over the Shenandoah Valley. The sun was setting behind the mountains and the blue sky melted into soft pastels and deep indigo. The wind washed through the tall grass of the valley and the rippling of the stalks reminded Duo of the ocean. The sweet scent of spring filled the air as the birds sang their last song for the day. As the violet-eyed boy sat in the grass listening to them, his thoughts wandered back to the songs that Quatre played for him.

"Poor Quatre," he told some wild daisies, "Why does Trowa have to be so high and mighty all the time? Why does he ask so many questions? Of course I worry about Quatre . . . He's my best friend. Heero and I don't talk much anymore. I think WuFei hates me, and Trowa, well, that's territory that I don't want to enter. But Quatre's always there for me . . . for everyone. He's just kind like that. I can't believe that people would try to take advantage of him," Duo paused in his inter-daisy conversation and looked out over the valley, "It's so beautiful here. Quatre would love it. I should bring him . . . maybe it would cheer him up." The daisies only nodded their heads in the breeze. "I should get back to school; Quatre will be worried." He climbed back into the jeep and began the half hour drive back to Ridgemont.

As he entered the living room, he tossed his keys on a table. The petite blonde sat in his burgundy chair, playing with the tiny birds. Their blue, yellow, and green feathers added a cheerfulness that brightened the often dark room. 

Quatre loved the little birds. They were so tiny and gentle, and they sang beautifully. He looked up as his friend entered the room. A smile adorned his excitedly flushed face and his eyes twinkled. "What are their names?" he asked.

Duo couldn't help, but smile at the little blonde's happy curiosity. "Henry and Henrietta," he replied, "I'm glad you're feeling better."

The sandrock pilot's face burned with embarrassment. His eyes dropped, in fact, his whole head lowered and his small body shook a little. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with that. I didn't mean to lose control. I thought I could handle it, but I guess I'm too weak," Quatre fought back tears.

The braided boy strained to see his friend's downcast face, but the blonde bangs blocked his view. He did notice two small drops that fell from the little face onto the soft rug. 

Quatre was so ashamed. After all Duo had done to help him, he still lost it. He couldn't even look him in the face. He willed himself not to cry but it wasn't working. He felt as if he'd taken their friendship for granted. The blonde sat frozen . . . clinging to his pants until his knuckles were white.

He suddenly felt the strong arms around him again, willing him to look up. He slowly raised his gaze to meet the vivid amethyst eyes.

"You are not weak. You lost the one you loved. Not even the strongest man in the world can recover from that easily . . . and what did I say about apologies?" Duo's voice was gentle and soft. His understanding and comfort reached into Quatre's heart, drawing more tears from the large blue eyes.

"Thank you for taking such good care of me," Quatre whispered.

The words struck something in Duo and he thought back to his conversation with Trowa, "I'll always take care of you." He gave the smaller boy one last squeeze and then stood to get a drink. "Are you thirsty, Q?" he asked, returning to his usual jovial voice.

"Not really. But I do have info on the mission."

Duo slapped himself on the forehead. [I almost forgot about it.] "So," he said sheepishly, "What'd ya get?"

"Oz officers must be disguised as teachers and students."

"Why?"

"Our class lectures are actually codes for military information."

"What?!"

"Don't look so surprised. If the organization could survive the wars, they can do almost anything."

"Even use a school for their own sick purposes. Where's the safehouse again?"

"About 45 minutes away. Near the Shenandoah Valley."

"It's more like half an hour."

"Oh, you know the area?"

"Sorta. Do, do you have a list of teachers you need followed?"

"Yes. Start with Mr. Khrushchev."

"The history teacher . . . why didn't I think of that?"

"We need to find out anything we can about where he goes and who he's with."

"Gotcha. Piece of cake."


	10. Chapter 10

Standard Disclaimer:  Not mine.  Don't sue.  The most you'll get is a green penny and perhaps some lint.

Warnings:  hints of shonen ai

[blah] = thoughts

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 10:

            [Q-man must be a code-cracking fiend, 'cause all I get outta this lecture is B-O-R-I-N-G]  The deathscythe pilot yawned as he listened to Mr. Khrushchev drone about the Industrial Revolution, and the rhythmic clacking of chalk nearly lulled him to sleep.  He carefully studied his teacher through feigned half-lidded eyes.

            A loud chiming abruptly interrupted the speech on the late 1800's.  Twenty-six students leapt from their desks, stampeding to the door.  [Thank God.  I hate pretending to be stupid.]

            In a cartoon world, crickets would have chirped in the background of the abandoned classroom.  Two solitary figures remained on opposite ends of the room, completely preoccupied in their own tasks . . . or were they?

            A tall man with light brown hair and a clean-cut goatee swiped an eraser across the black board.  After the marks were smeared across the board and his hands, he began to gather up teaching supplies from his desk.

            In the back of the room, a figure sat, half-shrouded in shadows.  His long, thick braid draped over his shoulder and across his lap, to avoid it sweeping the floor.  He lazily shuffled some papers while peering through his bangs.  A sly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.  [What now, my little commie?  What can you tell me about those Neo-Oz bastards?]  The violet eyes pilot rose to his feet effortlessly and stalked towards the door.  The shadows seemed to follow the lithe boy and although his head faced the exit, his eyes never left the figure at the chalkboard.  He entered the hall with silent footsteps, as if his feet never touched the tiles of the floor.  He disappeared around a corner leaving no trace of his presence behind.

            Mr. Khrushchev looked up from his work on the desk.  "Was someone just here?" he asked the now empty room.  With a shrug, he picked up his briefcase and left the lecture hall.  

            A tall man emerged from a classroom, and after locking the door, headed fro the rear exit of the building, completely unaware of silent laughter from amongst the darkness.  A shadow slunk down the hall, out a side exit, and up the wall to the roof.  It hung over the edge, watching the back of the building.

            Before long, Khrushchev appeared and walked towards an awning.  As if by remote control, a girl came around the corner and approached the teacher.  Duo studied her for a moment.  [That's Quatre's friend, Sissa.  What's she doing back here?"  He listened to as much of their conversation as possible.  It was something about, "World War II . . . blitz-craig . . . little Aryan . . . gas . . ."

            [What the hell are they talking about?]  He watched them exchange hasty farewells and go their separate ways.  After waiting a moment for the coast to clear, the braided boy retreated to the shadows to report back to Quatre.

************************************************************************

            After listening to Duo's findings, Quatre thought for a moment.  "We've studied World War II in class and a test is coming up.  She probably needed some tutoring."

            "I don't think so, Quatre.  They seemed so urgent . . ."

            "Maybe he was in a hurry."

            "But . . ."

            Quatre burst out laughing.  "Don't worry so much, Duo.  There are plenty of other people for you to track."

            Outwardly Duo laughed with Quatre, "Yeah, I guess you're right."  But he tried to retain his worry behind his carefree mask.  [Something about this just doesn't feel right.]  He promised himself he'd look into it more.

            Quatre watched his comrade closely.  The braided pilot's usually cheerful features were clouded with concern.  He instantly felt guilty about laughing.  [He's been so good to me, and how do I repay him?  By laughing at something that's apparently important to him.]  Quatre searched for something to say, "Duo . . . I . . . um . . . are you . . ."

            Duo nearly jumped as Quatre's stammering broke the silence.  "Oh.  I'm fine," he said through a forced smile.

            Quatre took one look at that smile and knew it was as fake as Dorothy Catalonia's bottle blonde hair.  He didn't know what was wrong, or why, but he had a strong urge to try and soothe his friend's suffering.

            Duo's thoughts raced.  [I wish I were as good at decoding as golden-boy.  I'm just so worried and I don't know why.  It's just . . .] His thoughts trailed off as he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.  He whipped around and looked deep into azure eyes that studied him.  His stomach felt so uneasy and he was dizzy.  [Is it because I'm worried . . . or because he's touching me?]  A shiver ran down his spine as the possibility entered his thoughts.

            The little blonde pilot saw the brunette tremble slightly and immediately worried about Duo's well being.  Reaching out, he cupped the right side of Duo's head in his hand.  The silky brown locks of hair twisted around his finders.  Pulling Duo closer to his face, he noticed his friend's breathing was quick and shallow.  With his other hand, he gently brushed back Duo's bangs, and then laid a soft rosy cheek against the exposed forehead to check for a fever.

            Duo was going crazy.  [Quatre . . . so close . . . so soft . . .]  As the little Arab's cheek brushed his forehead, he melted into the gentle hands.  [I've been alone for so long.  I just need . . . just need to be held.]

            Quatre felt Duo's stiff body relax as he checked for a fever.  [He's a little warm, but nothing to worry about.  I wonder what's wrong?]  He pulled Duo into his arms and let the braided head rest on his shoulder.  Slowly stroking Duo's back with feather-light fingertips, he murmured comforting sounds.

            Duo's limp body molded to Quatre's, absorbing every bit of the petite frame.  [Never had love . . . never known love . . . so lonely . . . for so long . . . just hold me . . . just hold me . . .]

            The blonde head leaned forward and nuzzled the satiny strands of chestnut hair, letting the smell of chamomile and jasmine overrun his senses.  He had come to find so much comfort in the simple scent.

            Duo rested his weary body in Quatre's arms.  It felt so warm . . . so right.


	11. Chapter 11

Standard Disclaimer:  No matter how many times I asked, Sunrise said I can't have Gundam Wing.  They are just big poopy heads.

Warnings:  mild mention of violence (sort of), hints of shonen ai

A/N:  This chapter may be a little bit confusing, but bear with me.  It'll all come together.

[blah] = thoughts

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 11:

            He felt like he was falling; as if a dark abyss had opened up to suck him away from everything he cared about.  He needed to hold on . . . to cling to what he had left.  Was it Shinigami again?  Did he come to destroy everything again?  [Why are you taking everything from me?]

            Quatre's eyes grew wide as saucers as Duo's arms suddenly wrapped around his waist.  He felt slight pain as the brunette pilot squeezed like he was holding on for dear life.  His uchuu no koroko allowed him to feel Duo's suffering, but it wasn't pain.  It felt cold . . . endless . . . like a void.  [Oh Duo!  What's wrong?]  He looked down to the heart shaped face and found the usually bright violet eyes scrunched shut.  Duo's lips fluttered rapidly, barely allowing any breath to escape.  The blonde strained to hear the inaudible murmurs and found a very distant cry of Shinigami.

            The pressure of Duo's arms on his ribs gradually began to take its toll, but the pain barely registered in Quatre's mind.  Duo was in trouble, and he didn't know what to do.  [It's almost like he's not here . . . almost like he's . . .]

            [Lost] Duo thought. [I hate being lost.]  As the fear of being lost and alone welled inside of him, Duo took off through the oblivion of him mind's eye.  Memories of his childhood chased him.  They sneered at him and taunted.  He tried to block out their cries, but his legs were growing weak.  [If I stop running, I'll keep falling.]  He willed his legs to continue, heart heaving within his chest.  

            But he heard a voice.  A voice that ran cold through his veins, sending uncontrollable tremors down his panting body.  It was sick and sinister, and he knew it well.  "Why are you running, Duo?" it echoed around him, "You'll never escape the past, and you'll never escape me."

            Duo felt his knees weakened by the power of the voice's owner.  "What do you want from me this time," he cried out.

            "Stupid little Duo!  You never know what you have until it's gone.  And you never really appreciate anyone until I visit."

            With those words, a light appeared in the distance.  It displayed the silhouette of a collapsed form.

            Fear gripped Duo's heart as he approached the limp figure.  The only word his mind could form was, "Who?"  As he neared the body, the light flashed over the frame.  It glistened momentarily in the hair . . . the shiny golden hair.

            Time stopped.  The pilot stood motionless, his breath constricting in his chest.  Wrenching pain seared through his chest as he approached the small body.

            "NO!" his heart cried at the sight before him.  His dearest friend lay twisted at the waist.  Thick red liquid streamed from a hole in his chest.  The normally gentle face twisted in horror and agony.  For the first time in eight years, he let himself cry.  Tasting the salt and his own bitterness.  He reached out to stroke the soft cheek, and as his fingertips just brushed the cold surface, he fell.  The void swallowed him wholly, pulling him from Quatre's limp body.  He screamed for it stop and before he could create a coherent statement, everything went black. 


	12. Chapter 12

Standard Disclaimer:  The Gundam boys are mine, and you can't have them.  No, not really.  But if they were mine, these are the kinds of things that would happen to them.

Warnings:  hints of shonen ai

A/N:  I hope the last chapter was comprehendible.  ^_^;;

[blah] = thoughts

Renaissance 

By skyprincess

Chapter 12:

            Quatre experienced all of Duo's emotions:  confusion, fear, horror, sorrow, despair.  The little pilot worriedly studied Duo's face for any sign of consciousness.  He watched as a single tear pooled in the corner of the braided pilot's eye and slowly dripped down the flushed cheek, like a tiny iridescent pearl.  The lean form in his arms shuddered twice.

            Duo blinded his eyes several times as the world began to regain color and consistency.  Quatre watched his eyes flutter and a wave of relief washed over him.

            As everything came into focus, Duo was surprised to find himself looking up into Quatre's gentle face, creased with worry.  His face stretched into a huge grin, clearly displaying joy and relief.

            The blonde looked at the happily smiling Duo on his lap and couldn't help but smile back.  The tear had left a damply shimmering streak everywhere it had kissed Duo's cheek.  He wiped away the moisture with gentle fingers.

            Duo looked up into Quatre's face, and felt the hand on his cheek, relief surging through him, "Quatre, I'm so glad you're still here!"

            "Of course I am.  Where would I have gone?  Besides, I couldn't leave you in that state."

            Duo was mildly confused.  [I just saw Quatre dead, and now he's right next to me.]  This realm of thought was short-lived as concern took its place.  [I need to keep an eye on Quatre.  I have a bad feeling . . .]

            "Duo, are you alright?"

            "Hm?  Oh, yeah.  Sure I am."  He tried to stand to prove his point, but as his knees wobbled and his body began its descent, he came to the amazing realization that, yes, gravity still works, and, no, his muscles didn't.  

            The Arab saw his friend begin to topple and his arms shot out, hooking under Duo's.  Quatre grunted as Duo's full weight jerked him forward slightly in the awkward positioning, but he kept his balance.  He leaned his almost limp friend against the sofa as he repositioned himself to stand in front of Duo.  Before pulling Duo up, piggyback style, the sandrock pilot noticed a dazed look on his comrade's face.  He hoisted Duo up and began trudging to his bedroom.  "Are you feeling well, Duo?"

            "Oh yeah.  I'm fine.  All that running must've made my legs weak," Duo replied absently.

            "Running?"

            "Mmhm . . . now they feel like jelly," Duo mumbled as he nuzzled Quatre's back. 

            The blonde decided not to press the issue.  As long as Duo was okay, he didn't need to worry.  He felt his friend's soft cuddles and smiled to himself.  [It's been a very long time since anyone has openly shown me affection like that.  I almost forgot how much I like it.]

            The little Arab carried the slightly large pilot easily and upon reaching Duo's bed, squatted to lay his friend down gently.

            Duo looked up at the angelic face as Quatre tucked him into bed, "Thanks Q . . . Sorry if I . . ."

            "What did you say about apologies?  I'm doing what any friend would do.  Besides, I owe you.  Now, you need rest, so stop worrying, and go to sleep," the blonde lightly brushed Duo's bangs back as he spoke.  

            The motion calmed the deathscythe pilot.  In fact, he almost seemed to lean into the strokes.  The droopy amethyst eyes gleamed beneath his dark lashes in silent admiration of Quatre.

            The braided boy lay in bed, soaking up the attention.  He was starved for affection and needed to be touched.  As Quatre sat next to him on the bed, tenderly running his slender finders through the velvety chocolate locks, Duo was in pure bliss.  He never wanted this moment to end.  He watched Quatre's lips as they parted and met repeatedly, forming breathless words of comfort.  The inaudible words did not matter, but the soft murmurs placated the usually energetic pilot.

            Quatre watched as the lovely indigo eyes drifted closed.  The russet braid sprawled across the pillow and his breathing settled into a steady rise and fall of the chest.

            Satisfied with his friend's complacent state, the saffron haired pilot prepared to exit, throwing one last glance at the figure on the bed, before retreating to his own chamber for the evening.


	13. Chapter 13

Standard Disclaimer:  How many times do I have to tell you people that the Gundam pilots aren't mine!?!?!  Oh!  And "Hanging by a Moment" isn't mine either, it's the property of Lifehouse.

Warnings:  Shonen ai 

A/N:  This is not a song fic.  A song is just mentioned.  A sailor moon character is mentioned here too, but it's not a crossover.  You need not be beefy to lift a lot of weight.  My friend, Matt, is a wiry guy with a slim build who can still seriously press some poundage.  Keep that in mind.  Also, in the words of the wonderful Kasra, Duo needs to be hit by the clue-by-four.  Should we give it to him folks?

[blah] = thoughts

_/blah/_ = song lyrics

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 13:

            The braided boy sat in his bed, red-eyed, watching the sunrise.  After Quatre had left the night before, a cold feeling enveloped him.  He tossed and turned all night, as nightmares of his ominous vision flooded his sleep.  "Talk about your out of body experience," he mused, "Well, I suppose more of an in of body experience.  Whatever."  He felt edgy and tense.  [I need to work some of this off.  Clear my head.]  He rolled out of bed and scurried to the bathroom to wash his face, and throw on some clothes.  He walked into the kitchen wearing a royal blue Adidas t-shirt and black mesh soccer shorts.  Grabbing a water bottle, the violet-eyed boy paused to scribble a quick note of whereabouts, before heading out the door.  [No better place to relieve stress than the gym.  Heero taught me that.]

            The russet haired pilot strolled merrily down the concrete walkway, his long braid lightly bouncing with each step.  He made his way through the mostly empty schoolyard to Ridgemont's athletic center.

************************************************************************

            Quatre rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he shuffled towards the kitchen.  His ivory satin robe trailed behind him like a regal cloak and his sunny silk pajamas almost matched the color of his slightly mussed hair.

            He reached up into the cabinet and grabbed the kettle for his morning tea.  Today, a small post-it was attached to one side.

                                    Quat~

                                           Went to workout.  Back in a flash.

                                                                        ~Duo

[Hmm . . . I'm glad he's out and about.  He must be feeling better, but I hope he doesn't overexert himself.]  The little Arab set the note on the counter and continued his tea making.  Afterwards, he headed for his window with a fresh cup, and sat, slowly sipping in the sunlight, while listening to the CD of his favorite violinist, Michiru Kaio.  [What a beautiful morning to enjoy a lazy day.]  The bright sun shown clearly through the cloudless blue sky.  Several leaves played hopscotch along the pathways after being caught by the rushing breeze.  Tree branches swayed back and forth, dancing to the simple melody of the robins.  It truly was the perfect day for relaxing.

************************************************************************

            Duo lay on the bench, barbell above his chest, as he completed pressing his second set of reps.  "18, 19, 20," he breathed each number as his arms fully extended.  He racked the bar and sat up.  After wiping some sweat off of his face, he chugged a bit of his water bottle.  Duo looked around, pleased.  The gym was deserted.  Most students spent their days off at the beach or in town.  [I love days off.]  He walked to the already playing radio.  [No competition for weights, no inane teenybopper gossip, and I get to listen to whatever I want.]  He cranked the volume up and returned to the bench press to finish his set.  He had the stereo tuned to WHFS for the latest rock hits, and just as he lifted the bar, a familiar tune came over the frequency.  [Hey it's that song by Lifehouse.  Cool.]  Duo loved this song.  He'd heard it many times before, but as he began his last set of reps; he listened to the words for the first time, and the lyrics slapped with a dose of reality.

_/Forgetting all I'm lacking,_

_Starving for truth,_

_I'm closer to where I started . . . _

_I'm chasing after you. /_

The words obviously affected Duo, because he began to concentrate more on listening to the song than the weight above his chest.

_/I'm falling even more in love with you._

_Letting go of all I've held on to._

_Standing here until you make me move._

_Just hanging by a moment here with you. /_

            As he listened to the lyrics, an amazing realization set in; something that his subconscious knew far before his active mind would admit.  In the midst of his emotional revolution he forgot where he was and what he was doing.  Thus, 190 pounds of metal crashed onto his chest, but he didn't cry out in pain or even flinch.  The deathscythe pilot simply lay with the barbell resting on his chest, staring at the radio inquisitively.  He blinked twice; returning to his conscious thought and effortlessly lifted and racked the bar.  He rolled to a sitting position at the end of the bench and just sat that way for a while, rolling these thoughts around in his head.  "Who'da thought?" he chuckled to himself, standing to return to his dorm.

            Unsure of how exactly to act, Duo silently crept into his and Quatre's room.  Upon reaching the end of the hallway, he found Quatre perched at the window.  The blonde pilot's legs were drawn up and held with clasped hands.  His delicate chin rested on his kneed and his bright cerulean eyes stared out the window.  As brilliant overhead rays illuminated his slender form, reflecting off of his shiny robe, which cascaded over his body and onto the floor, he seemed to exude light.  Beautifully sweet, he looked like a celestial being.  Engrossed in his lazy day thoughts, he had no idea Duo stood in the doorframe, gawking at him.

            Duo watched him a few moments more before breaking his wistful gaze and hanging his head.  [Never.  I could never . . .]

            Finally aware of another's presence, Quatre turned around to face his roommate.  The soft spun gold strands brushed against his flawless rosy cheeks.  "Hey Duo!  How's it going?" the blonde asked smiling widely.

            "Uh . . . fine, I guess," Duo mumbled uncomfortably, "My ribs are a little sore."

            "Ribs?  I thought your legs hurt?"

            "Oh they did last night," Duo shifted nervously, "But now my ribs hurt 'cause I dropped a weight on 'em."

            "How'd you do that?!"

            "I guess I wasn't paying attention while I bench pressed, and lost my grip on the bar.  But it was only 190 pounds," Duo stared at the ground intently as he spoke.

            "Sweet Jesus Duo!  You should be more careful!  Are you alright?!  Did you break anything?!"

            "I'm fine, Q-man," Duo said, turning away, "I just need to go think about some stuff."

            Quatre watched the braided boy disappear into his bedroom.  [Ever since last night, he's been acting very strange.  I hope he's okay.  I wonder what he needs to think about?]


	14. Chapter 14

Standard Disclaimer:  Not mine, no matter how hard I try.  Wait!  Maybe if I . . . *maniacal laughter* . . . ahem . . . Excuse me while I go plot.

Warnings:  Shonen ai, some sap but mostly angst

A/N:  Gomen nasai!  I've been so busy with school and stuff; I'll try to get better about putting chapters out.  Thanks again to all the readers!  I love you guys.  Oh!  And I think that you'll find things are starting to get more interesting.

/blah/= thoughts

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 14:

            /What an invigorating shopping trip!/  The elevator dinged loudly, signaling the blonde's exit.  /I can't believe I lost track of time like that.  I shouldn't have spent four hours in the mall./  He deftly balanced his bags against his slender hip as he fished through his pocket for his key.  /I hope Duo's feeling better.  He was so mopey this morning./  Quatre victoriously extracted the renegade key and opened the door.  "Duo!  I'm back!"

            His only response was his own greeting echoing down the long corridor.  "Duo?"  Still no response.  Worried, he hurried into the living room.  The Arab set the bags next to the sofa while calling our, "He!  I bought Smackdown II.  Wanna beat me up for awhile? . . You can be the Rock."  Quatre was surprised that the boisterous pilot hadn't exploded into the room to play.  /Duo loves wrestling games.  I wonder if he's feeling well . . ./  But before he could finish the thought, Quatre was struck with sudden and tremendous grief.  The sorrow tore through him, laden with insatiable need.  "Oh God!  Duo!"  He raced to Duo's room and burst through the door.

            Quatre heard Duo before he saw him.  Barely audible mutterings floated through the air of the darkened room, "Never . . . I could never . . . too good . . . too precious . . . not mine . . . never . . . could . . . be . . ."

            The blonde pilot scanned the room for the owner of the heartbreaking sounds.  His eyes finally fell upon a tiny, shuddering form.  Half hidden by shadows, the boy's knees were pulled up tightly and he cradled his face in his arms.  His normally immaculate braid laid in a disheveled mess on the floor.  Several long russet strands had come loose in front, washing over the hunched shoulders and polling at his feet.  He slowly rocked back and forth mumbling to himself and shuddering with every breath.

            Not even his uchuu no koroko could have prepared Quatre for the emotions evoked by this pathetic form of his dear friend.  Although still in shock, he willed his legs to move and quickly made his way across the room to the shrunken figure.  Lowering himself to the floor, he wrapped comforting arms around his trembling friend.

            Duo looked up in surprise.  Tears streaked the usually smiling face and confusion filled the amethyst eyes.  Quatre had never seen the deathscythe pilot cry before, and found the sight very disconcerting.  The normally flowing lacks were matted to the pale face in sweat and tears.  Quatre smoothed the dampened strands away from his friend's face.

            The violet eyes fluttered slightly as Duo reveled in the delicate touches.  /But I can't!/  Against his will, he backed away from the angelic pilot.  Immediately he registered the hurt in Quatre's large expressive eyes.

            /Why did he push away?  Why won't he let me help him?/  Quatre sat wondering in silence.

            "I'm sorry Quatre," the husky voice came out as little more then a choked sob.

            "Well, that's fine and good, but I want to help you.  And I can't if you keep pushing me away."

            "I . . . I know . . . But I don't know if I can talk about it . . . if I'm ready to talk about it."

            "Please try, Duo.  I want to help."

            The longhaired boy looked into the pleading eyes.  The blue-green orbs were remarkably warm.  Quatre's cupid's bow was set in a straight line and the tiny chin jutted forward in determination.  The golden locks beamed around his head like a halo.  Duo cried out weakly in defeat.  He had the innate need to give the smaller pilot anything he wanted.  

            Slowly, he reached out, shaking, and lightly grasped Quatre's ivory hands.  He took a deep breath and ran his thumbs over the soft knuckles, surprised and relieved by the small calluses on the palms.  The rough patched, small as they were, somehow made the little angel seem more human.  

            Without looking up, or meeting Quatre's gaze he began, "Please give me a chance to get this all out because if I stop . . . I don't think I'll be able to finish.  Earlier today, you asked how I dropped the weights on my chest . . . well, it's because of you.  I mean, it's not your fault, in fact, you didn't do anything except be yourself . . . your wonderful, beautiful self."

            Quatre cocked his head to the side slightly, eyes full of concern and curiosity.

            After a short pause, Duo's words streamed out in a rapid torrent, " I know I must be rambling, but please bare with me.  This isn't easy.  I love you, Quatre."

            The aquamarine eyes widened with shock.  Duo winced, feeling Quatre's surprise, but he hesitantly continued, "I think that I always have, but I've been afraid to admit it.  You always had Trowa and I didn't want to interfere.  And then there was that "thing" with Hilde and me, but really, she's more like a little sister than anything.  And as I was lifting weights today . . . my thoughts roamed . . . and I kinda listened to this song and it reminded me of you . . . and I got to thinking about how much I really care about you . . . and it just hit me.  This epiphany took me a little off guard and I ended up with a bunch of weights on top of me.  That's all.  Quatre, you are my first thought when I wake every morning and my last before I fall asleep at night.  From the moment I help you, crying in my arms, I knew that I needed to protect you . . . to be by your side forever."  

            He finally looked up into Quatre's bewildered yet gentle face, and involuntarily reached up to gently stroke a soft rosy cheek, "Quatre you are so beautiful.  I could simply gaze at your lovely face for the rest of eternity.  Your laughter and sweet voice bring a smile to my heart.  You are one of the few people in this world who have taken the time to look past all of the facades, tear down all of the walls, reach deep into the darkness of my heart to pull out all that is bright and good within me.  Your absolute and unfaltering kindness stirs a part of my soul that I didn't know exists."  The hyacinth eyes once again began to well with tears, "And I know that I don't deserve you . . . You hate it, but you really are like the holiest of angels.  And what am I?  No more than a fallen angel, a slave of Shinigami.  You are so pure and I'm so . . . tainted.  My hands are stained with blood full of malice and vengeance.  Two hateful emotions that have probably never crossed your heart."  The braided head dropped again and its owner's voice cracked with sorrow, "I know that I'm not worthy of your love, but please allow me, pathetic as I am, to love you."

            Quatre sat in disbelief.  /This can't be happening . . . This can't be happening./ chanted like a mantra in his head.  He opened and shut his mouth several times as if searching for the words he needed.  /NO!  Please don't say these things.  You're my best friend.  I . . . and Trowa . . . I don't want to lose you!  What do I do? /

            The blonde Arabian sat nervously fidgeting for a few minutes.  Then, his eyes fell on the damp sallow cheeks, the matted hair, the red swollen eyes, and he became racked with guilt.  "Duo . . . You're my best friend . . . I can't . . ."

            The braided pilot exhaled loudly, interrupting his friend's stammering, "That's just about the response I expected.  You know me well enough that you shouldn't feel obligated to say or do anything."  He slowly pushed to a standing position.  "I promised I'd watch out for you and I will, but I need to go now."    

            Azure eyes watched him walk to the door.  /He looks so dazed, like a zombie.  I've got to say something./  His mind fumbled for something to say as he watched the retreating figure.

            /My best friend just walked out on me and I couldn't think of anything to stop him.  He admitted his love for me and I cant' return it.  He asked nothing of me and I was actually relieved.  What kind of person am I?/  Tears pricked the bright blue-green eyes and a dull scratching ache formed a lump in the slender throat.  Duo's absolute acceptance and melancholy still radiated through his being.  He trembled with guilt and empathy.  /I know refection.  I know the pain of your loved one casting you aside . . . the bland stares cutting though you like a thousand knives.  I know how much it hurts and I just did it to my best friend.  What had happened to me?  What have Trowa and I become?/

TBC . . .  


	15. Chapter 15

Standard Disclaimer:  *yawn* Gundam Wing is not mine . . . *yawn* Gomen, but these disclaimers are tiresome.  I'm not making any money so there.  

Warnings:  Angst (lots of it), mild language, and Shonen ai 

/blah/= thoughts

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 15:

            Duo stumbled out of the elevator and sprinted for the door.  /Gotta get out!  Gotta get away!/  The tears distorted his vision as if looking through a fun house mirror.  The world dipped and swirled around him, as the ground seemed to shy away from his every step.  Through the blur of tears and haze of night he saw a familiar object in the distance.  /My jeep!  Gotta go!  Almost there!/  He continued at break neck speed, eyes locked on his target.  His chest burned from lack of air.  He lunged for the door handle as though it might run away.  He took a moment to steady himself; bent at the waist, one hand hung limply, the other still clutched the handle while his hair wildly hung over his face.  Panting heavily he threw the door open and clambered inside.

************************************************************************

            The loud screech of tires stirred Quatre from his thoughts and he rushed to the window to see the culprit.  He arrived just in time to see a teal jeep squeal out the school gates, the driver's long braid whipping behind him.  "He's in no condition to drive right now.  I hope he'll be alright," Quatre sighed into the empty night.  He looked up to the black starless sky.  Hope seemed so far away and Quatre's words died before they could reach his lips.  So he fell to his knees and cried, for Duo, for Trowa, for lost love, and unrequited love, and stayed on Duo's floor all night.  "Duo, I'm so sorry that I couldn't do anything.  I suppose I am too weak."

************************************************************************

            The usually dazzling city lights swirled past the racing jeep in luminescent streaks, taunting the driver's peripheral vision like a million phosphorescent phantasms.  He absent-mindedly wiped his eyes with the back of his forearm, quickly amazed at the dampened sleeve.  "I'm still crying," he confessed to himself, all the while not believing the self-assertion.  Harsh tears pooled in the corners of the amethyst eyes, and he once again wiped them away.  

            The teal jeep careened down Main Street at a dangerous pace, the force of the wind crashing around the windshield to chaff the moist cheeks, leaving them still damp but also wind burnt.  "I run.  I hide.  But I never tell a lie," Duo mocked himself, his voice hoarse with sorrow.  "Just couldn't run long enough.  Has to screw up the only good thing I had."

            Enveloped in thought, the deathscythe pilot barely noticed the bright red light glowing over the oncoming intersection.  Duo's eyes shot open and he slammed his right foot onto the break as quickly and solidly as humanly possible . . . well, not exactly human.  Being a Gundam pilot, Duo's reaction time, strength, and precision were far above that of the average hum.  Plus, the quick reflexes developed in his earlier . . . ahem . . . profession came in handy and Duo narrowly missed a messy mass of metal and skyrocketing insurance bills.  He sat at the light, panting shallowly and letting his heart slow from its panic-frenzied pace.  The jeep eased forward gently as the light blinked to green.

            /Where am I going?/  In all honesty he had no idea where he was running to, but his hands absently lead, and he followed.  /What will I do when I get there?/  The question so trivial and insignificant died as rapidly as it formed.  /Why does it matter?  Why does anything matter?/  Anger and pain seethed pain seethed through every fiber of his being, the usually smiling lips twisted in misery.  "Damn you Shinigami, for everything you've done.  I can't even take away his pain.  I wouldn't mind being the scapegoat again if it meant he would be happy," his cries were caught in the fickle wind and carried far above any sympathetic ears.  Tears once again burned his eyes blurring out the cold world as he sailed through it.

************************************************************************

            Little sunlight filtered through the cloud-covered sky.  A gray haze draped over the landscape drowning the world in a murky umbra.  Dim blonde locks were barely visible through a high window.  The usually bright eyes of the blonde appeared dull, more because of his broken spirit than the weather.  He sat motionless, staring at everything and yet nothing.  Time stood still as his glazed over eyes idly allowed salty drops to escape their corners.  His right hand reached across his chest and clutched his shirt over his heart.  The knuckles were white with strain, punctuating the shallow rise and fall of the narrow chest.  The rosy cherubic face paled to a sallow lifeless shade.  The pronounced pink lips quivered as silent regrets tumbled from their depths.  Thoughts whirled around the recesses of his mind, running in and out of those caverns like dozens of lost children.  Slipping and sliding in his mental prison, Quatre was much like a lost child himself.  

            "When? . . How? . . Why? . ."  Conscious thought long forgotten and coherency thrown to the wind, he simply sat, letting his psyche war with itself.

************************************************************************

            A gust of wind ruffled through the disheveled mass of chestnut locks.  Duo's cheeks still glistened from recent tears as he sat atop the hood of his jeep looking out over the gloomy valley.  A dismal shroud had wrapped around his place of solace, making everything seem so lifeless . . . so dead.  "Thanks Shinigami," the American muttered.

            A sudden burst of wind whipped across the valley, almost knocking Duo backwards.  And he heard it . . . the voice whispering, "I'm just trying to help you remember."  

            The braided pilot's face wrinkled into a scowl as he grasped the cross around his neck for support, "How could I forget!"

            A loud thunderclap interrupted his cry, booming out over the valley, but only his ears heard its message, "Does it have to be Quatre too?"

            The violet eyes shot open in surprise.  That almost sounded like a threat, or a warning.  He took another look at the somber valley and remembered the vision.  "Oh God!" he wailed, "I've been so wrapped up in myself, that I haven't paid attention to the promise I made to Quatre and Trowa, and I've ignored my commitment to the mission."  Tears pricked at his eyes, and he felt the familiar painful lump welling in his throat.  "No," he ordered himself brusquely, rubbing his eyes, and willing away the tears.  

            He intended one last look over the valley, but something in the distance caught his eye.  A house?  The safe house!  A plan began to slowly formulate in the pilot's ever-plotting mind.  "Now, to get a few party favors," a familiar smile spread across his lips, "Cause the God of Death is ready for a little festivity, and Neo-Oz is invited."  Duo quickly turned to his jeep and, forsaking the doors, opted to leap in swinging on the frame.  One swift motion found him in the seat with the engine on, and not a moment later, he was racing off in the direction of the little cabin.


	16. Chapter 16

Standard Disclaimer:  How many times do I have to tell you people that I don't own Gundam Wing before you believe me?!

Warnings:  Shonen ai, language, angst

A/N:  Short?  I know.  I'll have more out soon.  Promise.

_/blah/_ = thoughts

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 16:

He intended one last look over the valley, but something in the distance caught his eye.  A house?  The safe house!  A plan began to slowly formulate in the pilot's ever-plotting mind.  "Now, to get a few party favors," a familiar smile spread across his lips, "Cause the God of Death is ready for a little festivity, and Neo-Oz is invited."  Duo quickly turned to his jeep and, forsaking the doors, opted to leap in swinging on the frame.  One swift motion found him in the seat with the engine on, and not a moment later, he was racing off in the direction of the little cabin.

************************************************************************

            Quatre had awakened from his semi-coma and now wandered about the dorm, putting away the forgotten shopping items.  Everything he looked at reminded him of Duo.  Perhaps because his messy roommate left his clothes everywhere, but still, the little reminders weighed on the Arab's tender heart.

            Finally, with nowhere else to turn for comfort, Quatre approached his dear old companion.  "Looks like it's just you and me again, but whose fault is it this time."  Quatre couldn't bare to look up because then he'd see the birds that Duo had bought for him, or the playstation that Duo had taught him to play, or the pile of books that Duo was reading…  The blonde head turned to the window in hope of reprise from the barrage of memories, but his face immediately fell as he found himself staring directly at Duo's garden (as they affectionately called it).  Shimmering streaks began to carve familiar trails sown the gentle cheeks once again.  So Quatre did the only thing he knew, he lifted the wooden instrument to his chin.  /_Everything he did was for me./_ What was left of his heart slowly broke as he place the bow on the strings and began a song… a song that hadn't been played in months… a song he'd vowed never to play again… a song that Duo had helped him forget, and now helped him remember.  It was a slow and melancholy song, telltale of heartache, that ended in one last dying note.

************************************************************************

            Duo pulled into the back entrance of the school, hiding the jeep behind some trees and shrubbery.  He emerged from the vehicle in black leather pants and a black bomber jacket zipped up so only a hint of his red shirt was visible.  "The God of Death is back in black," he chuckled to himself, throwing a large backpack over his shoulder.  "Shinigami may claim a few heads today," he said darkly as a devious smile spread on his face, "But not my Quatre's."

            Sinking into the shadows, Duo ran along the back buildings until he reached the dark hall that Kruschev always disappears into.  /_Let's see where that pinky was always running off to./_  The hall made an abrupt turn to the right, away from the actual school, and the braided wonder soon found himself in front of a security access door.  "Oh-ho!  How clever," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows, "But nothing I can't crack."  Duo set to work hacking away at the entry keys and after a few moments brought his fist down solidly on the wall just to the right of the key pad.  The monitor beeped several times, and the message "Access Granted" flashed on the screen as the door slid open.  _/Piece of cake./_  

            He entered the sterile hallway, and deftly began placing small round metal objects in dark corners of the hall, carefully listening for motion or voices as he went.  He found an empty room with a window and made a note of its location after placing a few of the round objects in it.  He made his way along the halls dodging what appeared to be guards, leaving little objects by every door, until he came to one that peaked his interest.  It was slightly ajar and a voice could be heard from inside… a Russian voice.  The Gundam pilot stopped to listen, "Officer Stanley will be taking care of our little prince.  She's the best for the job."

            Duo mind raced.  _/Stanley… female…/_  He ran through his mental yearbook, _/Stanley… Melissa Stanley… Sissa!/_  He began to panic.  _/Think Duo… this is so not my forte… World War II blitzkrieg:…an attack from behind… gas:… used to kill the prisoners… Aryan:… blonde hair, blue eyes… little prince… oh shit!  Quatre!/_  Just as the realization set in, Duo felt two strong arms reach around and clamp his mouth and heard a sharp "shh" in his ear.  The person dragged him backwards to the empty room, and once inside freed Duo of their grasp.  The pilot whirled around in defense and stood in shock at the person before him.


	17. Chapter 17

Standard Disclaimer:  I figured you guys would've gotten it by now.  Don't own… yadda yadda.

Warnings:  mild violence, shonen ai-ish, language, demolition

A/N:  Sorry I'm taking so long.  A lot came up in my life recently, and I've been trying to put all of that behind me.  I hope you enjoy the new chapters that I'm posting.

Renaissance

By skyprincess

Chapter 17:

_recap_:

            Just as the realization set in, Duo felt two strong arms reach around and clamp his mouth and heard a sharp "shh" in his ear.  The person dragged him backwards to the empty room, and once inside freed Duo of their grasp.  The pilot whirled around in defense and stood in shock at the person before him.

************************************************************************

            Quatre sat at his window, still holding the violin, receded to the melancholy of the room.  He leapt to his feet as the somber calm of the room was shattered, and he heard his front door crash in on itself.  He moved to see the cause, but was abruptly halted only a few steps from the window.  Before him, three figures stood in Neo Oz uniforms, their guns trained on him.  The center figure stepped forward unveiling its face from the shadows.  Oceanic eyes widened in shock and betrayal as he stared at his dear friend, Sissa.  "Well hello Quatrina… or should I say Quatre Reberba Winner, heir to the Winner fortune, member of the renown group of Gundam pilots.  Is this why you never let anyone into your room?  Oh well, you do make quite a good girl… even Colonel Catalonia admits that.  But, she also told me you had a lot of… how did she put it… 'personal problems.'"  Her voice was cold as a wicked grin crept across her face, seeming to reveal feral fangs.  

            "Leave me alone Sissa," Quatre hissed through clenched teeth.  He had taken stock of the situation as she spoke, and knew he was outnumbered, unarmed, and had no routes of escape in sight.

            "Oh!  But I can't.  I have a mission… you understand, don't you?  My mission is to kill you.  So I figured, what the hell, really, I'm just putting you out of your misery."  She lowered the gun till it aimed at the blonde head and cocked the trigger.  But her blissful domineering silence was broken by a husky voice from behind, "Sorry sweetcheeks.  Not on my watch."

            Before Sissa had time to react, a braided boy slid between her legs, hopped to his feet, and deftly kicked the gun from her hands.  It rattled in the distance as it his the wood floor, forgotten in the wake of Duo's entrance.  

            Duo tossed Quatre the back pack, "Look behind the left curtain and in the front pocket, you'll know what to do."  The blonde found roped fastened behind the curtain and a figure eight as well as a karabiner in the bag, and quickly set to work attaching the climbing gear.  

            Capitalizing on the element of surprise, Duo turned slightly and punched the soldier to his left, connecting with his jaw using a solid right hook.  Quatre winced at the sickening crack of the jawbone and watched in horror and relief as a stream of blood ran from the corner of the soldier's mouth and he collapsed with a gurgling thud.  Before Duo could even look at the other guard, the man was out the door, and heading towards the "hidden" base for backup.  The deathscythe pilot mentally shook his head.  //_Tsk… tsk… not such a good idea.//_  

            He turned to help Quatre, and his smile immediately faded to panic.  Sissa had retrieved her gun and was aiming at a busily unaware Quatre.  With all of the speed Duo could muster, he took off across the room for his beloved friend.  

            As Quatre hurried to finish looking the rope, he heard a gunshot, and before he had time to think or react, he was forcefully shoved to the ground.  Pain shot through his left arm as he landed, but he was keenly aware of a low grunt from behind him.

            As Duo pushed Quatre out of the way, he fell to his own knee in pain.  Hot metal ripped through the flesh of his left quadricep.  With one sweeping motion, Duo pushed to his feet, ignoring the shooting pains, extracted his gun form the back of his pants, and fired two shots:  one knocking the gun from Sissa's hands, the other connecting directly with her right shoulder.  She cried out in pain and shock as she fell to the floor clutching the open wound.  The braided boy replaced the gun and pulled some rags from the bag to tie around his leg.  Quatre, still in shock, scrambled to his feet and opened the window to throw the rope down.  Duo turned to the fallen officer once more, "You're a bad shot.  Can't kill anyone by shooting them in the leg.  And remember, no one hurts _my_ Quatre."  He then clipped the biner to his belt and turned to his friend, "Climb on my back, wrap your arms around my neck, and hang on."  

Quatre did as he was told.  He'd never seen Duo quite so calm or serious and it was quite stunning.  The words "my Quatre" kept replaying in his head.  The funny part was that it didn't seem to bother him.  After hearing Duo shout a brief, "Hang on!"  Quatre felt himself flying backwards out the window.  He sucked in his breath as adrenaline rushed through his blood in the exhilaration of freefall, but he quickly found himself in a rhythm of swing down, push off, swing down, push off.

Supporting Quatre in their descent was no big deal.  The Deathscythe pilot had carried backpacks as heavy as his friend, but pushing off of the wall with his left leg became increasingly difficult.  Without fail, pain scorched through every nerve in his leg each time he pushed off of the wall.  His breath came in short hisses of pain as he tried to maintain balance without putting much weight on the leg.  He felt himself wobble slightly and quickly dug both feet into the brick face to steady himself.  //_If I slip, we'll fall sideways, and Q will have a close encounter of the nasty kind with this wall.  Can't have that happening.//  _With new resolution and a grunt, Duo gritted his teeth and concentrated on smooth descent, blocking out the pain as much as possible.

Quatre clung to his savior's back.  //_I'm not Heero and that fall looks painful._//  He glanced down at this comrades hands.  //_No gloves?!_//  The rope ran hot through the calloused palms leaving raw flesh in its wake.  But Duo didn't seem to acknowledge the burning.  The petit blonde looked over his friend's shoulder and noticed the look of grim determination on Duo's face that slightly contorted with low grunts every time they hit the wall.  For a few moments, confusion took over the Sandrock pilot, but he quickly remembered the gunshots.  He hastily whipped his eyes in the direction of the wounded leg.  The American had tied a pretty descent tourniquet, to slow blood flow, but his quick continued loss of blood was painfully obvious, even through the black fabric.  //_What has gotten into you today, Duo?_//  As Quatre searched for an answer to his unasked question, a promise floated into his recollection… a promise from several months ago:  "Don't worry, pal, I'll protect you… No one will hurt you ever again… I promise."  Duo's words rang in his head, a beacon of salvation and truth, and Quatre thought back to all of his own actions and assumptions of the past few months and came to one conclusion.  //_I am an asshole.//_

            Duo nearly panted.  //_Only a few more stories to go.  Man, I wish that this little ray of sunshine didn't live over 100 ft in the air.  At least my jeep is waiting at the bottom.//_

            As they neared the third story, the Arabian finally heard quite a bit of commotion from the ground.  He looked down to the schoolyard and the aqua eyes widened in shock at the sight before him.  Dozens of Hummers and jeeps carrying students were heading towards the front gate.  The vehicles were driven and directed by people wearing what appeared to be uniforms.  As he got a closer look, he realized that they were not only uniforms, they were uniforms of the Dark Thorn, the underground rebel group that works to foil Neo Oz's plans and especially to protect civilians from the casualties of war.

            Several feet above the ground, Quatre finally saw a boy standing next to Duo's jeep.  The pins and badges on his uniform denoted him as commander of this brigade.  //_He looks so familiar…_//  

            The repelling pair finally dropped to the ground, and Duo unclipped the rope from his belt.  Quatre turned around to study the stranger, but his jaw dropped as he realized it wasn't a stranger at all.  Duo's husky voice cut through his surprise, "What's up Tommy?" and he watched his friend walk forward to shake his former roommate's hand.  

            It had been such a shock and relief when Duo had found out it was Tommy who dragged him into the room, and that they were not only both fighting, but fighting on the same side.

            Quatre stood in dumbfounded silence, listening to their conversation.  

            "How'd the escape go?" Tommy inquired.

            "Well, no major injuries," Duo replied with a small gesture.

            "Jesus Duo!  Your leg!"

            "It's no big deal.  I've had worse."

            "I'm sure, but you could still use medical attention.  Can I send one of my field medics with you?"

            The braided boy gave a slight nod.  "Now, how's the evacuation?"

            Quatre thought back to what seemed like chaos only moments before.  //_Evacuation?  That must be why all of the students were being herded into vehicles.//_

            "Right on schedule," Tommy replied with a mischievious smile.

            Quatre looked back and forth between the two.  //_Why are they evacuating the school?//_Before he could ask the question, a black jeep pulled up behind Tommy.  He gestured to the driver, a rather large man with a crew cut and glasses, "This is Dr. Murphy.  Call him Murph.  The two of us are gonna follow you to make sure you get the medical aid that you need."

            Before Duo could refuse, Quatre nudged him towards his jeep saying, "Thank you so much for your generosity.  Of course you can follow us.  But we should all be on our way."  Murph nodded once and drove off towards the school exit.

            Duo turned around, whining, "Quatre, I don't need help.  Why'd you tell them to follow us?"

            "Duo, you are bleeding at an extremely fast pace and I'm no doctor, so I don't know if you should even drive."

            "I got shot in the left leg, not the right.  I can drive."

            "But you lost a lot of blood."

            "Just trust me."

            Quatre sighed but he climbed into the passenger seat.  Duo jumped behind the wheel and sped off for the gate.  Just as Quatre began to adjust to the speed at which they were traveling, they came to a screeching halt just outside the iron fencing.  Duo turned around so he was backwards in his seat.  As he gazes at the school, he extracted a small black joystick with a red button from his pocket and held it in front of his body.

            Quatre gasped, "Duo!?  That looks like a detonation device!"

            A small smile played at the corners of the brunette's mouth, "It does, doesn't it?"  And he slowly pressed down the button.

            Quatre whirled around just in time to see the entire school blow itself apart.  Flames leapt from the remainders as chunks of brick and sheet rock flew in all directions.  A dark cloud of smoke swirled over their heads.

            Duo looked at the detonator in mock disgust, "And here I thought this was the switch for the electric gate."  Quatre blinked in shock for a second and then covered his mouth to suppress laughter.  

            Duo sank back into his seat and slid on his sunglasses, while Quatre reached out and clicked on the radio.  As the jeep eased forward, familiar lyrics flowed through the air, "School's out for the summer…"  Duo chuckled to himself, glancing back at the remnants of Ridgemont High.  //_Probably a lot longer than that.//_  And with those thoughts, the teal jeep raced towards the safehouse, its black counterpart in tow.

To be continued…


End file.
